ANDROMEDA TONKS: LONG-TERM, ADDICT
by Amandah Leigh
Summary: Andromeda Tonks is involuntarily committed to a rehab facility after her 5-yr-old grandson begs the Minister for Magic for help. Kingsley arrives to find her passed out, drunk and high. She needs to finally face her demons, for Teddy's sake... but what if she thinks he'd be better off without her? What if she'd rather remain an addict? RATED M for MATURE CONTENT
1. Part One: Week 1

**Andromeda Tonks is involuntarily checked into a rehabilitation facility after her grandson goes to the Minister for Magic for help because she passed out, drunk and high. 5 years post-war, she needs to finally face her demons, for Teddy's sake... but what if she thinks her grandson - and the world - would be better off without her?**

 **Companion to Stages of Grief (but you don't need to read that one to read this one).**

 **Rated: M for situations and references related to sex, violence, child abuse, alcoholism, depression, mild self-harm, suicide discussion, drugs. Contains 'citrus.' Not appropriate for readers under 17. Some trigger warnings for drug use, overdose, and sexual situations exist in-chapter.**

 **Pairings: Andromeda/Kingsley, Andromeda/Ted Tonks, Snape/Narcissa, Draco/Hermione**

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 **ANDROMEDA TONKS: LONG-TERM, ADDICT.**

 **CHAPTER ONE:**

 **END OF WEEK 1**

Andromeda Tonks, formerly Black, was angry.

Furious. Cross. Livid. Fuming. Irate. Incensed.

Bloody raging – against the whole world, it felt.

She was angry with Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt for having her bloody committed. The humiliation of it! She'd be lucky if it didn't cost her the job she'd had at St. Mungo's since shortly after her grandson was born a little more than five years ago. Hell, she'd be lucky if it didn't cost her said grandson – Kingsley made it clear if she was unfit to raise little Teddy, someone else would be tasked with doing so. She was angry with Kingsley because in all the time he'd been fucking her – over two years – he'd never so much as indicated he thought her problem was too great for her to handle on her own. He'd conveniently looked away when casual drinking gave way to full-fledged alcoholism (yes, again). So what made this time different? Why this? Why now?

Because she'd added perfectly legal potions and perfectly illegal Elven Herb into the mix?

Because she'd injected her concoction into that thick blue vein in the crux of her elbow like a bloody Muggle?

Because little Teddy had been the one to summon him, to ask him for help, in the middle of his work day, interrupting what had surely been an important meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister?

He'd called her an addict.

An addict!

She could stomach being labeled an alcoholic. That was nothing new. She'd been an alcoholic for well over two decades, though she'd had several bouts of sobriety during that time, some of them impressively long.

But an addict?

It sounded like such an ugly word.

Addict.

It sounded dirty. Criminal. Classless.

Addict.

"Fuck you," she muttered, going from the hard-backed chair in her hospital-like bedroom at the rehabilitation center to the window overlooking a dreary courtyard. For May, it certainly was gray out there. Not raining, but looked as though it both had been and would soon.

She rubbed her thumb over the track marks along her inner arm. It had been a man who introduced her to this new way of getting potions into her system. She'd been seeking an alternative, as drinking was getting more difficult with her sister constantly 'stopping by' at all hours to check in and Kingsley monitoring what she kept in the house. She couldn't smoke Elven Herb as she had at Hogwarts when young, when she and the other Slytherin girls, led by Bellatrix (of course) could slip out into the Forbidden Forest and get high without their Head of House, Horace Slughorn, being any the wiser. She'd tried smoking it a couple of times in recent months, but the scent lingered in the air long after the fag was extinguished and couldn't be cleared even with magic. So she met a man down in Knockturn Alley, a man who'd supplied her with Herb in the past – long past. A man recently released from Azkaban: Thorfinn Rowle.

"You look like your sister," he said, leaning against the cool dark wall of the alleyway outside the last shop on the street, Cobb & Webb's, a curiosities shop where the owners turned a blind eye to illegal activities... for a price. "More now than you did at school. You don't have her mad eyes, but the rest of her–"

"I know," interrupted Andromeda, bitterness dripping from her voice. "The resemblance is uncanny, or so I've been told. And that's why my home has no mirrors."

"She was beautiful, but mad as a hatter..." He reached out a thick hand and stroked her cheek with his forefinger. She managed not to pull away.

"Did you bring the Herb?"

"You have a galleon?"

"Yes." She fished it from the pocket of her traveling cloak.

"Two galleons?"

"You said one."

He smirked, curling his lip just enough to reveal yellowed, broken teeth. Azkaban, despite the lack of Dementors, had not been good to him.

"That was before I knew you were the Minister's whore. Now I'm saying two."

"I am not his whore." Her cheeks spotted red, but with fury, not embarrassment. Though she and Kingsley kept their relationship – whatever it was – quiet, it was not quite a secret, and she did not appreciate the implication there was anything untoward about it.

"Two galleons," he repeated, smirk growing.

"You said one. I only have one. I may look like my sister, but I don't have her money."

"Your other sister does, though, doesn't she?" He turned, placing his body in front of hers, moving forward as she moved back until she hit the wall. He put a palm up to the wall beyond her shoulder, giving the impression she was pinned there though his body did not touch hers. "Narcissa Malfoy. That bitch has got money."

"Not anymore. Didn't you hear? She married Severus Snape. He runs an apothecary. Hardly lucrative. They reside in a modest home in a Muggle neighborhood." This was true, mostly. She had married Snape and he did run an apothecary, but they were not hurting financially.

Rowle didn't seem to be buying it.

"What happened, then, to all that Malfoy and Lestrange and Black gold? Disappeared?" He spat on the ground, a nasty habit that made her sneer. "Bitch, I know you can get another galleon."

"One galleon," said Andromeda insistently, never a woman to back down. "Or I take my business elsewhere."

"Nowhere else to take it, love." He brought his hand up to her face again, cupping her cheek. As much as she hated this close proximity she refused to show weakness by pulling away. "I've cornered the bloody market. But perhaps you could pay me in another way."

"I have nothing to give you. I am but a poor widow with a child to raise alone. I work at St. Mungo's. I sit at a desk and direct patients. You want what I do not have."

"I disagree." He removed his hand from her face, keeping his other against the wall, and then grabbed her left hand. He held it up, examining her wedding ring. "I'll take this. Real diamond?"

"You absolutely cannot have that." She wrenched her hand away, grasping it with the other, fingering the ring given to her by Ted the night they ran away together, leaving her pureblood supremacist family behind forever. She rarely wore the ring anymore, but every once in a while - usually when she was feeling guilty about something she'd done or was about to do - she'd slip it on.

"One galleon or I'm gone, Rowle."

"You'll work it off in other ways, then." He pressed forward. She considered melting into the wall or apparating away, but _fuck_ – she wanted what he was supposed to be selling her. She needed something to help her escape the pain, stave off the nightmares, make her forget how much she hated herself. Thus she did not move or push him away, not even when he bumped his pelvis against hers and moved his mouth to her ear. "I always wanted a turn with your sister, but the Dark Lord denied me. He considered her his property and he did not like to share. But if you close your eyes, you'll pass for her in a pinch. And a pussy's a pussy – I'll not be too particular. You don't even have to shave."

"That's vulgar." Her wand hand twitched. She had her wand up her sleeve, as usual, and seriously considered using it to Stupify the great oaf. He had been a pig at Hogwarts and was clearly still a pig over thirty years later. "Aren't you married, Thorfinn? Does Euphemia know you offer a bartering system in lieu of proper currency?"

"I'll give you what you need today." He ground his pelvis against her suggestively for a second time and now she could feel the poke of his growing erection; apparently he was turned on by the disgusted expression on her face.

"Good," she said, wishing her traveling cloak covered more than her hair and shoulders. She wanted to be entirely wrapped in material, perhaps even under a veil, hidden from his view. The wolfish way he smiled at her turned her underfed stomach.

"Next time, Mrs. Tonks, once you're hooked, you'll do _anything_ for more. This one's one galleon. Next time, two. From then on, five. And if you can't pay it in gold, you'll pay it on your knees or on your back; I don't much care how we do it." He drew back, dropping his hand finally, and looked her over, a hungry twinkle in his eye. "Fucking the Minister's plaything has a certain... _allure_ to it."

" _Allure_? I'm surprised you even know that word." She pressed the galleon into his palm but did not release his hand, afraid he'd disappear with her money and this humiliation will have been for naught. "Give me the Herb."

"Here." He handed her a small leather pouch. "Go ahead, have a look, sample the merchandise. I'll wait. I am nothing if not an honest dealer."

She opened it, glanced inside, sniffed, and tasted a tiny bit. Once satisfied, she nodded.

"You received the instructions regarding how to mix it, what with, and the ways to possibly consume it?"

"I did."

The options, when it came to Elven Herb, were smoking (which was not an option), inserting (also not an option), snorting (no, thanks), or injecting. She'd try her hand with that last one. The directions did not seem too difficult to follow, even though it was the most dangerous method, in part because it involved consuming the most dangerous part of the plant.

"I look forward to our next encounter." Thorfinn Rowle shot her a smarmy grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to meet my Ministry-appointed Mentor. Part of my Death Eater rehabilitation program. Do you think I seem sufficiently punished by my prison stay? Do I appear remorseful?" He laughed. "Thank your boyfriend for me, eh? I appreciate his softened stance on crime and his focus on reintroducing my friends and me back into wizarding society." He tapped his forearm where she knew his Dark Mark was under his sleeve. "I'm hoping he won't regret it. Will he?"

"I hope not." A pang of guilt stabbed her through the gut. Kingsley was working so hard at keeping those who could be rehabilitated on the right path while keeping those who couldn't behind bars since the post-war executions were stopped and here she was, buying illegal substances from a man who clearly lacked remorse or the desire to do better, and what's worse, she couldn't even tell Kingsley about him without admitting what she'd been doing down in Knockturn Alley... plus, she had a feeling Rowle would be the type to try to blackmail her if he found himself in trouble and unwilling to return to Azkaban.

She left Knockturn Alley feeling sickened both by what she'd done and what she intended to do, a feeling of self-loathing that just made her want to escape all the more. And it worked. She brewed the concoction, injected it as previously instructed, and, for a short time, she felt better. Blissfully empty. Too fucked up to care about anything.

For months she managed to pay Rowle the galleons he demanded for more Elven Herb to mix into a proper concoction for the purpose of getting high. She got the other necessary potions ingredients from her sister and Snape, who either did not realize she was stealing from them or weren't yet willing to confront her about it. She used a syringe with a long, thin needle, which she'd procured from St. Mungo's new experimental magical cures department (they were trying to combine Muggle treatments with Magic, as some Muggleborns were not responding well to the old methods when suffering certain maladies). At first she only got high when Teddy wasn't home, when he was spending the weekend with Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny, or staying the night with nephew Draco and his girlfriend, Hermione.

But with Harry and Ginny expecting their first child and with Draco busy with his philanthropic endeavors and Hermione running the expanded second apothecary Severus purchased in Hogsmeade after his Diagon Alley one was immensely successful, she was finding less time to herself... and she was also finding herself unable to go long periods without it.

She started skipping work to do it, injecting the potion into her arms while her sister babysat during the days, and then she started doing it after putting the precious boy to bed at night, knowing she had a good seven-to-ten hours before she'd have to be functioning again.

She told herself she was doing this for him, too. Because she needed it. She needed the escape, something to look forward to, in order to properly care for him, thus they both benefited. That's what she told herself.

It wasn't long before she couldn't afford the necessary supply.

It wasn't long before she found herself cheating on Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, on her back in a seedy inn trying to pretend the vile man panting, thrusting, and sweating on top of her wasn't a violent murderous Death Eater who caused as much destruction and pain as her sister Bella.

She tried not to think about what her daughter Nymphadora would say if she could see her in this position, or what her late husband would think of her, how sickened and disappointed he'd be.

She tried to pretend it didn't mean anything, that sex didn't mean anything unless the person having it wanted it to, and she didn't. She tried to tell herself Elven Herb and injected potions were no worse than Firewhisky or gin.

She tried to tell herself that doing what she did was actually _better_ than getting pissed on a regular basis, because at least she didn't have tremors and dizzy spells once the drugs wore off like she did when attempting to wean herself from the alcohol.

She was a liar.

She was lying to herself.

She was an addict.

That's what it said on the chart on the end of her bed. _Andromeda Tonks: Long-term, Addict._

And Andromeda Tonks, née Black, was angry.

Furious. Cross. Livid. Fuming. Irate. Incensed.

Bloody raging – against the whole world, it felt.

She was angry with her daughter, Nymphadora, for insisting upon rushing out to Hogwarts in what ended up being the Final Battle of the Second War. She should have worked harder to keep her home, should have Stunned or Stupified her, should have offered to go in her place, leaving the young mother at home with her infant son. She was angry with her for becoming an Auror in the first place, for wanting to protect the greater wizarding world when the only people she should have been protecting were herself and her son.

She was angry with her sister's no-good werewolf husband, Remus Lupin, for taking Nymphadora's hand in his and promising – _promising_ – Andromeda he would make sure the everyone they loved would return home safely when the Battle at Hogwarts was over. She was angry with him for letting Nymphadora fall for him at all, for getting her pregnant then feeling forced into marrying her, and for returning after he left, because the young witch was better off without him.

She was angry with her husband, Ted, for dying while on the run, even though that wasn't fair at all and she knew it. She knew he did his damndest to avoid the Snatchers. She knew there wasn't much anyone could do once Lord Voldemort decided to kill them. She was angry with him for being Muggleborn, even though that didn't make any rational sense either. It wasn't his fault and there wasn't anything wrong with being the son of Muggles, but she was able to tell herself if he had only bee pureblood like her, he never would've been taken away.

She was angry with her sister Narcissa for doing so damn well. For tackling her sorrows head-on and moving on with her life, for working through her husband's execution with the help of a book called Stages of Grief, for falling in love again and letting it last, for caring for her adult son and little daughter as a mother should, and for only needing one short stint in rehab to kick her own alcohol habit.

She was angry with her other sister, Bellatrix, for being brainwashed by the monster Tom Riddle in the first place, for pruning her blood-traitorous family tree by murdering her only niece, for following a mad man simply because he made her feel special, for buying into all of the pureblood bullshit their parents instilled upon them from childhood, for being a fucking sadist, for forgetting she'd once loved her younger sister, loved her so much she'd never let anyone hurt her, and then going on to hurt her worse than anyone else ever could, by taking away the person who meant the most to her.

She was angry with Kingsley Shacklebolt because he'd stopped saying he loved her after she turned down his marriage proposal. She was angry with him because he didn't stop fucking her, or caring for her... or drinking with her.

But most of all, she was angry with herself. Angry because she couldn't keep it together, couldn't pick herself up enough to be the parent her grandson needed, and couldn't keep going on as if she was okay when she was so fucking _not_ okay.

In less than for twenty-four hours, it would be the five year anniversary of the day she lost her daughter.

And all she could think about was how much she wished she'd gone to fight and died instead.

Andromeda Tonks was an addict.

And she wasn't sure she wanted to fight her way free from addiction.

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 **A/N:**

This little plot bunny attacked me while I was trying to finish up the end of Stages of Grief and I had to let it out before I could move on. Thanks for reading! If you don't mind, please share your thoughts.

 **-AL**


	2. Part One: Week 2

**ANDROMEDA TONKS: LONG-TERM, ADDICT**

 **CHAPTER TWO:**

 **END OF WEEK 2**

"The fuck are you doing here?" Andromeda didn't turn around to greet him. She stood at the long, narrow window, facing that dreary courtyard, with her arms folded across her chest. She glared at her reflection in the glass. Merlin, how she hated her reflection. Every time she looked at herself lately, all she could see was the woman who murdered her beloved daughter.

The enemy was ever-present.

"I still care for you," he said in his smooth, deep voice. Always calm, always collected.

Didn't he ever lose his head? Didn't he ever get angry and unleash a string of swears or punch a wall or raise his voice? Not as far as she could tell. She wished he would. She wanted him to lash out at her, to light into her, to scold and degrade her – it was what she deserved, after all.

"You shouldn't," she said, her tone purposely harsh. "I spent months fucking another man behind your back."

"Thorfinn Rowle," he said. "I know. I had you followed. I was worried about you."

"You knew?" She couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "How could you continue to see me, to say you care for me, if you knew?"

"Because I _do_ care for you. I asked you a number of times if there was anything you wished to share with me, if you had anything you wanted to discuss, whether you felt–"

"You were giving me opportunities to tell you what you already knew?" This only served to make her angrier. Still, she did not turn to face him. She could, however, see his slightly distorted form reflected beside her own in the window. He wore long powder blue robes – he looked damn good in blue – and his usual cap, a symbol of his Nigerian heritage.

"I was hoping you would put aside your pride and come to me."

"You're one to speak of pride." She made a noise that sounded somewhere between a hiss and a spit. "If you had any sense of self-worth you wouldn't have continued dating a woman who was clearly cuckolding you – no, that's the wrong word. That indicates we're committed and I was having an affair. We've never been committed... well, I have, now..." She laughed bitterly, gesturing around the hospital room, carefully watching for his reaction in the window. "But it can't feel good for you to know the woman you've been seeing for the last two-plus years has been prostituting herself for drugs. If you were any sort of man at all, you'd have tossed me aside as soon as you learned of my _indiscretion_."

"I am not the sort of man who leaves a woman for whom I care deeply because she's gotten herself into a situation she sees no way out of."

"I see a way out. I just don't wish to take it."

"You'd like to remain here indefinitely? Or in Azkaban, perhaps? What about your grandson?"

"My sister is raising Teddy better than I could. He has Hope – she's like his little sister – and they're a two-parent family with a fucking dog. And money, enough money that Narcissa would never have to debase herself to get her fix, not that she needs one anymore, the bitch has been sober for years. With all that plus Draco and Hermione stopping in all the time, taking them to parks or playgrounds or picnics on Saturdays, it's an ideal upbringing. And he's still small. In a few years, he'll hardly remember me. But you - pathetic, aren't you? Emotionally investing in a filthy slag who'll lie down for anyone if the price is right." Bitterness and disdain dripped from her voice. He was not offended, though. He knew it was all self-directed, no matter how hard she tried to impugn his manhood.

"You don't believe that about Teddy. And you know I don't believe that of you."

Andromeda could hear the pain and sympathy in the Minister's voice and it was so raw and honest it almost made her want to turn and fling herself into his arms, to cry and beg forgiveness, to promise to get better and do better and be better. Instead, she said, "It's better this way" and closed her eyes, no longer able to look upon his reflection.

"I've had Thorfinn Rowle arrested for dealing," said Kingsley. She heard a familiar creak and knew he'd settled himself into her hard backed chair. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, as if doing so could erase him from her mind's eye. It couldn't.

"Did he sing about me?"

"He did."

"Did he expect you'd let him off if he threatened to go to the Prophet?"

"He did."

"What did you say?"

"I said to get him out of my sight. He's in Azkaban, awaiting trial."

"Which means my story has been picked up by the paper and–"

"No. Your nephew has used his connections to keep your name out, for now. And Harry Potter has given his fellow Aurors, those who apprehended and questioned Rowle, the strict directive not to discuss the case outside the office."

If she were the crying type, a tear would've slipped out at this. So her nephew knew what she'd been doing. Her sister knew, her brother-in-law knew, her boyfriend knew, Harry Potter knew, Hermione Granger knew... and everyone else who mattered to her was either dead or too young to understand.

"It's not painful, is it? Execution by Pensieve?"

"That's not quite..." he started, but she cut him off.

"You know what I mean. Being lowered into that substance, seeing your happy memories. I'm told it induces a sense of euphoria that increases until the end, keeping the criminal calm. You could do that for me."

"I am not going to help you kill yourself."

"It would be the humane thing."

"I will not, nor will anyone else. Andromeda?"

Finally, finally, she turned to look at him. He was indeed seated in her chair, wearing a floor-length powder blue wizard's robe and that cap, his fingers tented in front of him, regarding her carefully.

"What?"

"I should have helped you. I knew you were suffering but you were insistent that you could... I did not wish to rob you of your independence. I regret not interfering sooner. Frankly, I regret leaving Teddy in your care for so long too. I had your sister looking in on you–"

"I knew it! I knew she wasn't stopping by at all hours just to chat, all of a sudden."

"And I had a house-elf keeping tabs on you, too. Her elf would inform my elf whenever you left home without the boy. That's how I discovered you'd been with Rowle."

"Fuck you." She plopped down on her bed and ran her fingers through her long, wild hair. It was too long. Too wild. She couldn't tame it here, not without her wand, her special shampoo and conditioner, her various other hair tonics and products. This greatly increased her resemblance to Bellatrix. If they allowed scissors in this damn place, she'd chop it all off.

"I asked you to marry me a year ago." He said this without a trace of hurt or accusation, but she knew it had wounded him when she turned him down. They'd remained together, but that was when he stopped telling her he loved her and started claiming he "cared for" her instead.

"I remember."

"I still feel the way I did then."

"You're a fool, then. Did you not hear me when I confessed to fucking that loathsome man behind your back for months? I let him do vile things to me, and there were nights I left him only to go home to you an hour later. I am a whore."

He barely concealed a wince at this. He must not have realized she'd ever gone _directly_ from the other man's bed to his.

"I am a whore," she repeated. He shook his head slowly.

"You are not a whore. You are an addict."

"So it says on my chart." She tapped the clipboard on the end of her bed. Her fingernails were chipped and broken and yellowing from the injected concoction, which had a similar effect on enamel as cigarettes despite not being smoked. "I am both an addict and a whore, Kingsley, but what would you expect? The first time I was with you, I was both in a relationship and on the clock at work. Everyone thinks of the three of us Black sisters, I'm the one who turned out right, who turned her back on the darkness, but if only they could have known us all – I'm the immoral one. Not Narcissa. Not even Bella, as much as I hate her. She believed in blood purity with her whole heart and never waivered in those beliefs. She was a murderer, yes, but she was also one of the most honest people I've ever met. When she was on trial, even while her husband and his brother and that Crouch boy begged forgiveness and claimed to have been bewitched, she reaffirmed her commitment to the so-called Dark Lord. She slept with her Master but not behind the back of her husband, according to Cissy. She was transparent. She had standards. She would never have allowed herself to be degraded by a man like Thorfinn Rowle. She'd have killed him – or died – before allowing such a thing. Narcissa would..." Andromeda felt tears burning in the corners of her eyes and blinked rapidly to hold them off. "Narcissa would have died for her son, she made the Unbreakable Vow with Severus and lied in the face of You-Know-Who. She went into the Final Battle to keep the boy safe, not for any other reason, while I stayed the fuck home waiting for my daughter to return. I never joined the Order despite having been invited during both wars. I believed in Dumbledore, but I believed in self-preservation and the protection of my family first." She pressed her palms to her eyes but the tears were coming anyway.

"You did what you could–" Kingsley started. Andromeda responded by picking up her chart and slamming it to the floor.

"The hell I did! I did as little as possible. I did not go on the run with Ted. I did not stop Nymphadora from rushing into battle. The most I did was allow Harry Potter to briefly stop off at my home, and that was only because my daughter begged, and I kept my mouth shut about him when Bella and her husband arrived to torture me for information later. I am the reason the riot broke out at the Ministry on the first anniversary and I am poisoning my grandson with my pain!"

This was the moment that broke her. She could imagine him on the floor beside her lifeless body, trying unsuccessfully to wake her, having found her passed out drunk and high. She could imagine him climbing up to get the Floo Powder, clambering into the fireplace n unsteady legs, as he was still a klutz like his mother, and calling for the Minister. She could hear his little voice telling the man that Nana couldn't wake up, that there was something wrong with her. She'd been told the boy was panicked. No five-year-old should witness such a thing. If her daughter were alive to see her this way, she'd feel nothing but contempt for her, of that Andromeda was certain.

"I turned out the worst of the three of us," she said, allowing eye contact with Kingsley for the first time since his arrival. Her voice quivered as she spoke her next words, the tears falling freely down her cheeks now. "I am the quintessential Slytherin. I am dark and sick and immoral, loyal to few and concerned with my own well-being first. I am an alcoholic and an addict and a whore. I am human rubbish. I am... I am..." Her shoulders shook and she could not finish her statement for sobbing. Kingsley, no longer able to keep his distance, rushed to her. He sat beside her on the narrow bed, rested his back against the wall, and pulled her into his lap.

"You hate yourself," he said quietly. "I hate that you hate yourself."

"You ought to hate me too."

"I cannot. I love you."

"You're making a mistake, then." But she buried her face against his robes, inhaling his familiar scent – clean cotton, one of her favorite smells in the world – and let herself cry as he rocked her and held her and stroked her hair.

"You are going to get through this, Andromeda." He placed two fingers under her chin, guiding her to look at him. "You have ten weeks before your release. You are going to get through this. You don't really want to die. You want to live – to get better – don't you?"

She tried to nod but she'd never been much of a liar, despite the couple of affairs in which she'd engaged over the years. Lying by omission was easy. Lying straight to the face of a man for whom she cared was near-impossible. Rather than face the fact that she still felt the world might be better off without her in it, she reached up to brush her thumb against her lover's cheek, then drew him down to her for a gentle kiss. When they parted, she whispered, "Make love to me. Now. No one will know."

"Such relations are forbidden within this facility," he responded in no uncertain terms, extracting himself from her bed and her embrace. "I'll visit again next week."

She flopped onto her back on the bed and closed her eyes. She did not respond when he said goodbye, nor did she move as she listened to his deporting footsteps followed by the door clicking shut.

One of the nurses, an attractive younger man with a scruff of beard and blue eyes that reminded her of Dumbledore's, had just that morning informed her that he could sneak in contraband if she felt she needed it... but for a price.

He charged the same as Thorfinn Rowle.

Perhaps, if she got high enough, she'd blink into the mirror and see someone else staring back at her.

Perhaps, if she got high enough, she'd never have to blink her eyes or look upon her own reflection again.

* * *

 **A/N:**

If there's any interest from readers (and I hope there is, because this plot bunny won't let me go) I think I'm going to write a chapter for the end of each week Andromeda is in the rehab facility. I'm really enjoying delving into the life of the least-explored Black sister - but I warn you, this feels like it's going to get pretty dark. Thanks for following and adding to faves, and thanks a zillion to **PopularCats** , **clarasnotlikely,** and **sassanech** for reviewing!

 **-AL**


	3. Part One: Week 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

 **END OF WEEK 3**

It had been a bad week.

After that smarmy bloody male nurse gave her something in a syringe that was much stronger than anything she'd made for herself, she ended up in St. Mungo's. Two full days. Forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours of tests and treatments and dirty looks from Healers who didn't seem to think addicts were as worthy of healing as their other patients.

And just before discharge, she was gifted another visit from Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Was it worth it?" he asked, his voice as calm and collected as ever.

"For what it's worth, I didn't fuck him." She closed her eyes and employed Occlumency for the first time in a long time, emptying her head and her heart. She did not want her lover to see or sense any of her whirling, conflicting emotions, and she definitely didn't want him to know how positively wretched she felt. When she looked upon him again, her expression was one of blank indifference, much like the face Severus Snape had worn throughout most of the second war.

"He gave it to you out of the goodness of his heart, then?" asked Kingsley, showing uncharacteristic anger with his word choice that did not extend to his tone of voice.

"I believe you know he did not."

"He's been fired." Kingsley sat upon the edge of her hospital bed and regarded her carefully. "And arrested. You were not the only patient to whom he was providing contraband."

"How did the others pay?"

"The same way you did, I suspect."

"I didn't fuck him," she repeated emphatically. "You don't believe me?"

"When Aurors picked him up, he was in the room of a nineteen-year-old female patient. She was kneeling on the floor in front of him. She–"

"If you're about to tell me what she was doing, there's no need."

"You know that there are social diseases one can contract by–"

"I'm well aware of the existence of so-called 'social diseases,' thank you. I had one back in my Hogwarts days. Madam Pomfrey took care of matters for me and was kind enough not to inform my parents. Does that repulse you?"

"I am more concerned than repulsed by the fact that she did not see fit to inform your parents."

"I meant does it repulse you that I - never mind. It doesn't matter. I am currently disease-free, which must come as a relief for you and, by extension, the entire wizarding world. Can't have our most popular Minister in decades succumbing to the madness of Syphilis, most unfortunately contracted during unsafe sex with a filthy, careless, drug-addicted whore."

"You say these things in the way that you do because you're _trying_ to repulse me, but it is not working. I do not - and will not - view you in that way, because that is not who you are."

"Kingsley, please." She forced herself into a completely upright position and reached for his hand, gripping it harder than necessary, letting her nails dig into his palm. She stared at him with wide, pleading heavy-lidded eyes, eyes with purple bags under them, eyes through which he could see her very soul.

"Please...?" he prompted.

"Please, tell me you're through with me. It's better for both of us."

"I miss you," he replied quietly, his deep voice creaking with the pain of it. This was the first time she'd heard him sound this way, the first time she'd truly seen and heard the hurt in him. She doubled-down on her Occlumency to keep that pain from penetrating.

"You don't."

"I do. In particular, I miss the person you were before."

"The person I was when I shagged you in a storeroom at St. Mungo's when I was supposed to be working while my boyfriend was none the wiser? Kingsley, don't be delusional. I was never the decent person you want me to be."

"You _are_ the decent person I want you to be. Under that furious façade–"

"I want you to _hate_ me."

"I can't."

She pulled her hand away and averted her gaze, unwilling to let him see her shame. "You should."

"Andromeda." He stood, moved toward the head of her bed, and cradled her face between his strong, tender hands. "I can't promise I'll still wish to be with you when this is over, but I _am_ absolutely certain you will someday again be the person you were when I asked to marry me last year, because the core of who you are has not changed, it's merely buried under bitterness, depression, and drug addiction." He pressed his lips very gently to hers and despite her ultimate goal of making him loathe her as she loathed herself and therefore believe she deserved to be loathed, she sank into his kiss, ever-so-slightly parting her lips, and wishing she could go back in time. Back to when she deserved this tenderness from him. Back when she considered herself worthy of the love of another.

Not two hours later she was returned to her room at the rehabilitation facility, where she was no longer to be permitted visitors, as punishment for her indiscretion. That's what they called it. An indiscretion. She'd performed oral sex on a veritable stranger in exchange for a drug she couldn't even name, which she'd then injected into a vein on her left wrist because those higher on her arm had gone unusable, and then she'd passed out and nearly died when her heart slowed to a near-standstill, for which she'd had to be transferred to St. Mungo's, and it was an "indiscretion."

"You look like your sister, you know," the male nurse had said. He'd threaded one hand in the back of her hair while using the other to free himself from the confines of his trousers. "If I dim the lights in here, I could easily turn you into her."

She'd hated him for that. She'd very nearly ordered him from her room with the intention of reporting him... but he had the syringe... and she wanted what was inside it.

 _Fuck._

Being the Minister's unofficial kin had at least one perk, though: had she been anyone else, she'd have been booted from the facility and banned from the program for this sort of "indiscretion." Instead, the nurse had been fired and arrested and she was, again, free from any real consequence. Sure, in addition to visitor banishment, she'd lost the just-earned privilege of socializing in the enchanted courtyard in the afternoons and the joy of pudding after dinner, but did it matter? Only Kingsley had been visiting anyway, she had no desire to interact with other 'inmates,' and who needed those unnecessary calories?

She curled up in the hard-backed chair and stared out the window. It was a dark, blustery day, a perfect reflection of her mood, but when she closed her eyes intend upon feeling sorry for herself she wound up picturing Kingsley instead.

Had his lips always been as soft and inviting as they were this afternoon at St. Mungo's?

Yes, she decided. He was always good in that department.

Their first time together in that storeroom had been a whirlwind. He'd shagged her hard against the wall while she'd dug her fingernails into his shoulders and the back of his neck and begged him to thrust deeper, deriving pleasure from the feeling she was being punished.

But their second time?

That followed their first date.

He'd asked her to dinner. They'd gone to an expensive restaurant. They'd agreed that the cuisine was a bit elevated for their personal tastes. They'd ended up at his home after starters, having ice cream as their main course and chatting like old friends.

With her then-boyfriend, Barnaby, she loved being able to talk about their grandchildren and places they'd never traveled to but wanted to see, and she appreciated that he had been pretty far removed from the war, thus they didn't have to discuss it.

But with Kingsley...

She discovered there was something comforting about opening herself up to a man who understood without much explanation. He could comprehend her guilt over having failed to take a more active role in the Order, how awful she felt about keeping to the periphery, thinking if it all went sour for their side perhaps her blood-status and breeding could somehow save them. He could reminisce with her about Nymphadora, something she couldn't truly do with her reunited sister, as the two had never met. He appreciated stories of Nymphadora's childhood more than Narcissa could, because he could picture her as the clumsy, pink-haired, socially awkward but generally cheerful little bug she was. And he spoke of his own war-related guilt, the people he tried to save but could not, how he'd given up trying to convince Fudge the Dark Lord was back, fearing it would cost him his position and with it, his ultimate usefulness to the Order.

They were inherently connected to each other.

And that night, the night of their first date, just days after having had sex in the storeroom at St. Mungo's while she was on the clock, she realized Barnaby had been but a band-aid. A distraction. A friend. She needed something more.

She was attracted to his candidness and his power – she couldn't help feeling safe in his presence, and safety wasn't a feeling she'd known in years, not since she read about Bella's breakout from Azkaban and told her husband, "She wants me dead."

Barnaby did not understand how her own sister could want her dead.

Kingsley did.

"I'm freezing," she said upon finishing her ice cream. She placed the bowl on the coffee table in front of his couch and took his hands in hers. "See?"

"Your hands are ice." He brought them up to his lips and blew on them, a stream of warm air, as his skin rubbed over hers, making her tingle from the tips of her fingers to the tips of her toes.

"I'm always cold."

He continued to massage her hands in his, and this time, when he blew on them, his lips barely brushed against her knuckles.

"I find you attractive," he said, never one to mince words. "I was impressed by the way you manipulated me to get Narcissa out of Azkaban after the knife incident."

"You knew I was manipulating you?"

"Of course. I am not an imbecile." He chuckled and the deep tone of his voice resonated within her chest. "Everything about you that afternoon was a manipulation. You did not schedule an appointment so you could make a show of fighting with my secretary. You brought Teddy to remind me of Nymphadora – to remind me that you lost your daughter and he was orphaned, so I'd keep in mind that imprisoning you would take from him the only parental figure he has left. You wore that pink sweater and the sensible skirt to evoke a soft femininity not typically associated with the women of your family, and also probably to remind me you'd married a Muggle and practically lived like one since, in a Muggle neighborhood. You played with your wedding ring as you spoke – another reminder you had been widowed, which I found interesting considering you hadn't been wearing it when you were arrested at the Ministry a few months before. And if that wasn't enough, you dressed the boy in a Weasley sweater that matched one I saw on Harry Potter a few Christmases prior."

Andromeda's jaw dropped. "You noticed all that?"

"And more." He moved closer to her on the couch, setting her hands, still safely between his, on his knee.

"More?" She cocked a thin eyebrow, trying not to let on how unsettled she was that he'd seen straight through her nearly a year before.

"You said what your sister had done was your fault. I thought, then, that you'd confess to it having been your idea. But you did not."

"What makes you think it was my idea?"

He laughed again, a bigger, more booming laugh.

"Sending me the knife of Bellatrix Lestrange stabbed into the center of a cherry pie baked in the shape of a heart? That was not Narcissa Malfoy's doing. Why do you think, when I agreed to release your sister from Azkaban and send her to alcohol rehabilitation instead, I insisted you join her?"

"I..." Andromeda was at a loss. "I don't know."

"I thought it was the best solution for all involved."

"If you knew I was manipulating you, why did you allow yourself to be manipulated?" Andromeda regarded him with a mix of bemusement and annoyance. She would never let anyone twist her around as she'd done to him. But surely he must have had motivation for doing so? Something beyond it being best for all?

"I found you amusing, Andromeda. As amusing as you are attractive. And intelligent. To storm into the Ministry of Magic carrying a toddler and playing at my sympathies to achieve your own desired ends? Shows cunning, loyalty, and determination – Salazar Slytherin would be proud."

"Most non-Slytherin wizards do not speak of Slytherin traits in such a positive manner."

"I am not most wizards."

"Indeed, you're not." She ducked her head and peered up at him. He was smiling. She couldn't help returning the smile. "Since we're being candid... I quite like that you're not most wizards."

"Oh?" He leaned slightly forward and for reasons she could not put into words, she panicked knowing he intended to kiss her. It didn't made sense, considering they'd already shagged each other stupid, but suddenly she felt like a fluttering-tummied schoolgirl noticed by a boy for the first time, and she wasn't ready.

"Men tell me I look like my sister, Bellatrix," she blurted. She instantly wanted to hex herself unconscious. Why, of all the things she could have said, was that the sentence that made it out of her mouth?

"Do they?" He cradled her cheek with his hand and leaned in again, this time as if examining her properly. He shook his head. "I don't see the resemblance."

Then he kissed her.

And in that moment, it felt like she'd found everything she'd been missing.

So she kissed him back.

And maybe fell in love a little.

"Mrs. Tonks, are you awake? Mrs. Tonks?"

Someone was shaking her.

Andromeda forced her eyes open even though she'd much rather remain in her daydream. She glanced at the window. It was night now. Perhaps she had dozed off.

"Mrs. Tonks, it is time to take your medication and ready yourself for bed."

Ah, medication. It was to be phased out starting in week six, but for now she could count on it four times per day to stave off the tremors and sweats of withdrawal, to combat the related insomnia, and to keep her mind clear. She downed the potion in two gulps, shuddering at the awful taste – a mix of black licorice and smoked sausages with a hint of earthworm – and headed into the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She had no energy to shower, not tonight.

When she exited back into the bedroom, the nurse, a plump, blonde woman with a pleasant face, was still present.

"I can get dressed on my own," snapped Andromeda.

"You are being strictly monitored from now on, Mrs. Tonks," said the nurse nervously, as if she thought the witch might hex her for being the bearer of bad news. "Your room is warded against wandless magic, the door and window will not open to you, and while you are still required to attend group therapy after breakfast tomorrow, a nurse will have to escort you from here to there."

"I might as well be in prison."

"Like poor Benedict?" The nurse clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Poor Benedict? Please. Benedict took advantage of the weakness of your patients," said Andromeda coolly. "We're not in here because we're the best decision makers. That girl they found him with today, she turned to drugs after a childhood of sexual abuse, didn't she?"

"I... I can't discuss the particulars of other patients–" the nurse started. Andromeda cut her off.

"The question was a rhetorical one. I know perfectly well that the answer is yes; we've been in group sessions together. He exploited that innocent, broken, desperate girl, and for that alone he deserves a decade in Azkaban."

"And you?" asked the nurse, her expression one of genuine curiosity. "Did he exploit you?"

"No, he only failed me. I wanted enough of whatever that drug was to ensure I'd never wake up again, and yet here I am. Now, if you'd kindly fuck off, I'd like to ready myself for bed and I do not require an audience."

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Tonks." The nurse hurried from the room without a backward glance. Andromeda changed into her nightgown and crawled under the itchy woolen blanket and stiff sheet. The lights in the room automatically extinguished approximately ten minutes later, which is when the small fireplace roared to life. They truly had no control over anything here.

As she drifted off to sleep, she tried to concentrate on how much she hated herself and Bellatrix and her parents and Remus Lupin and even Narcissa, to fall asleep hoping not to wake up, as had become her ritual, because it was easier than thinking about how she had failed sweet Teddy. She needed to hate herself enough to feel he was better off without her, otherwise the guilt she'd been suppressing since the very first time she stuck a needle in her skin would explode, eating away at her from the inside out. She needed to remind herself that she was undeserving of anything good, or warm, or happy. She needed that self-loathing.

But she couldn't stop remembering how it felt that night Kingsley cradled her face on the couch after an ice cream dinner and told her he didn't see the resemblance to Bella, when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, when he took her to bed and whispered words of affection in her ear until she drifted off to sleep in his arms... and when she realized there might be love after loss after all.

Maybe.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to sassanech, emrldapplejuice, clarasnotlikely, JUJUChick16, FrancineHibiscus, and PopularCats for reviewing Chapter 2! I hugely appreciate it, and also thanks to everyone who is reading and following and adding to faves!

 **-AL**


	4. Part One: Week 4

**A/N:**

Sorry for my hiatus. December is a busy month with the holidays approaching and the universe thought it would be great to give me the gift of pneumonia this year. Ugh! But feeling better every day and wanted to get this out. Be forewarned – it's a heavier chapter. There will be one more update before Christmas, a lighter one to balance this out, and then continuing on from there!

Thanks for reading!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOUR**

 **END OF WEEK 4**

Group therapy was a waste of time.

It had been a waste of time the first time she was in rehab.

It had been a waste of time the second time she was in rehab.

And it was a waste of time now.

But it was a mandatory waste of time, thus she attended every day.

On the first day after her return from St. Mungo's, she noted the conspicuous absence of Dorcas Kensington, the girl who'd been caught on her knees in front of that drug-peddling male nurse now in Azkaban.

"Is she alright?" asked Andromeda, nodding toward the empty seat usually occupied by the girl.

The Healer running their therapy session smiled somberly.

"She will be."

"Is she here? Or... the hospital?"

"Mrs. Tonks, I apologize but I cannot comment on the particulars of another patient–"

"For fuck's sake, Artemisia! We were dorm mates at Hogwarts for six bloody years, drop the formalities. Is the girl here or at St. Mungo's?"

Artemisia sighed. "She will likely return to therapy tomorrow, Mrs. - excuse me - _Andromeda."_

"You used to be fun, Arte," said Andromeda, sizing up the woman disdainfully, with the intention of being cruel for the sake of cruelty if for no other reason than because there was no one else around at whom she could lash out. "What happened to you? Do you remember fun, or..."

"You'd know all about fun, wouldn't you, Meda?" hissed the Healer, leaning closer to avoid being overheard. "Sex and alcohol and sneaking off school grounds - you haven't changed much since the late '60s, have you?

Andromeda's heavy-lidded dark eyes flashed dangerous. "You act like you're better than me, Arte, but I remember _you_ at one Christmas party, circa 1975, pissed out of your mind, pathetically throwing yourself at any man who might take you home and–"

"That was over twenty-five years ago. _I've_ grown up since."

"And I haven't?"

"Well, let's see..." Artemisia glanced down at her clipboard and then around the room, where patients were making small talk or sipping tea, waiting for the session to start. She dropped her voice, which lost any lingering professional quality in favor of pure pettiness. " _I'm_ a bloody Healer now, and you're a... what are you, exactly? I mean, aside from being a secretary, you're a... a what? Not a _whore,_ not quite, as it's not as though he _paid_ you for it, but you _did_ trade goods for sex, so I suppose–"

"You're still sore at me for sucking off your husband, aren't you? It was _one_ time!"

"We'd been married three weeks and I thought you were my friend!"

"I _was_ your friend!"

"Some friend!"

"I'm sorry! I _said_ I was sorry!"

"No, you didn't, actually. Not really. You never said you were sorry you did it, only that you were sorry to have gotten caught."

"Well..." Andromeda fingered the hem of her pale blue facility-issued pajama top, same as that worn by all 'suicide watch' patients, all day, every day. Until today she'd managed to avoid having to dress in anything but her own clothes, but the fiasco of the week before had changed her status; she no longer had even the most basic freedoms. She felt both the anger and the desire to inflict pain on another dissipating, replaced by coolly concealed shame.

 _"Well?"_ Artemisia glared at Andromeda, but after a moment, her expression softened. "I apologize, Mrs. Tonks. Fighting with you over something that happened two decades ago is neither beneficial to your healing process nor a professional thing for me to–"

"I'm sorry," Andromeda interrupted, meaning it genuinely. "I know you think I'm a whore, and you're not wrong. I did what I did with your husband because he promised a raise and promotion in exchange and my husband and I were... poor. I did not grow up poor and I have never been good at being poor, despite having been on the edge of poverty for most of my adult life. Ted worked very hard, but Nymphadora was a special child, a Metamorph, and she needed specific tutoring to teach her to control her magic from the age of five on, and my husband's mother needed expensive care that he provided for her, and our home cost money, and we were in debt, and I thought a promotion and raise would serve my family well. I shouldn't have done it and I'm sorry."

"Was it the first time?"

"The first time I cheated with your husband?"

"The first time you cheated on yours?"

Andromeda blinked and looked away.

"You'd done it before, then."

"Not for money." She glanced back at the woman, her former friend and colleague, regarding her carefully. Just as she had twenty-five years ago, Artemisia had the most beautiful auburn hair, which curled into loose ringlets that touched her shoulders, but now the color was streaked with gray. Her green eyes were as vibrant as ever but had lines in the corners, and she was heavier, maybe a stone overweight. She'd been the last good friend Andromeda had had, until she reconnected with Narcissa after the war. "Arte, you're the only person who knows about that, you know. My husband and daughter knew I'd had an affair before, which I've since confessed to my sister, but only you and I and Charles know about... about what I did. I was – and remain – deeply ashamed of it. I didn't mean to cause you pain, I promise. I thought only of my own family and circumstances and what a promotion and more money could do for us."

"Was it worth it, then? Ruining my marriage less than a month after I entered into it? Was it worth the promotion and the raise, and the demise of our friendship?"

"Not at all. I didn't even get the promotion," Andromeda replied bitterly, again fiddling with the hem of her cotton pajama top. "He was furious when you left him so he fired me."

"I didn't know that."

Andromeda shrugged.

"It was a long time ago."

"Why do you offer yourself as currency?" Artemisia's tone had changed again, this time to one of genuine concern. Her brows furrowed together and she leaned close, careful not to be overheard. They only had another minute or two before the group session was to commence, but the Healer felt she had to know. "I know you did things with boys at Hogwarts a few times, and according to what I heard, you were shagging that awful former Death Eater for drugs, then Nurse Benedict last week, and my husband – have there been others?"

Andromeda smiled, a smile that made her former friend instantly uncomfortable. "My dear, Artemisia, as a good pureblood girl, you learn at a young age what you're good at and what you're good for. "She'd answered coldly, without inflection, the smile never leaving her lips. "I'm not good at much and I'm _good_ _for_ even less."

"We should revisit this." Artemisia patted her patient's knee in what she hoped was a comforting way before clearing her throat and using a Sonorus charm to increase her volume before addressing the group.

"Sit down, please, everyone! We are ready for this session to begin!"

That night, Andromeda paced back and forth in her room, twisting her fingers in her wild hair and desperate for a fix. She'd said too much earlier. She hated saying too much. She hated saying anything. She generally stayed as quiet as possible during these therapy sessions, group and individual, and only spoke about surface-level issues, blaming her dependence on drugs on her lack of access to alcohol, and blaming her dependence on alcohol on an addictive personality she inherited from her own mother.

It was easy, in those prior sessions, to blame Mother. Mother was dead. And horrible. Mother had disowned her. Mother had always favored her sisters, both of them, because Bellatrix was just like Mother and Narcissa was precisely what Mother wanted in a daughter. During her last stint in rehab, she'd had Narcissa to back her claims, too. Narcissa had an alcohol problem, Narcissa had grown up with Mother, Narcissa confirmed that a love of wine and spirits and blackout drunkenness was in their blood.

Without Narcissa here, for some reason it seemed harder to blame Mother alone.

The first time she drank too much, she was a sixth year at Hogwarts. It was the night of Slughorn's annual Christmas party. She was betrothed, as was still somewhat common for daughters from the oldest pureblood families, and she was secretly dating Hufflepuff Ted Tonks, her future husband, but all the same she'd been hoping for a party invite from handsome blond demigod Lucius Malfoy, the most popular boy in Slytherin. She and Cissy had been sitting together in the common room chatting and laughing when they caught his attention. He came over. He smiled at them. He said hello.

And he promptly asked out her little sister.

And she wondered why.

Was it because Narcissa was prettier? Charming? More docile? Those are her qualities that Mother valued.

Or was it because he knew what Andromeda had done fourth year with his friend Theo Nott? Worse, could Malfoy know she'd recently knelt down and given two different seventh year boys a jobby in the Astronomy Tower in exchange for galleons, galleons she desperately needed because she'd scheduled an appointment with a St. Mungo's Mediwitch over the Christmas holiday and needed to be able to pay for it without anyone consulting her parents, seeking gold and spilling secrets?

She couldn't ask him and she wasn't sure which was worse – being passed over for her younger sister because she had developed a reputation as a slag, or being passed over for her little sister because she was simply less desirable than the fourteen-year-old blonde?

So while everyone who was anyone was at Slughorn's party (and seventh year Ted was already studying for N.E.W.T.s) Andromeda was in Slughorn's classroom, where she found a large unopened bottle of Medgar Mugwump's Muddled Mead in the bottom left drawer. She took it to the Forbidden Forest, made herself comfortable on the lowest branch of a twisted old tree, and consumed as much of it as she could stomach before she was too dizzy to lift the bottle to her lips.

"Stop it!" Andromeda tugged hard on the twirled strands of her hair and glanced around her room in the rehab facility. She needed to ground herself. She did this sometimes when overwhelmed by emotions or flashbacks or upon waking from nightmares. It was a tactic taught to her by a Healer during her first foray into rehabilitation.

"There's the door to the loo," she whispered, looking to her right. "There's the bed." In front of her and to the left. "That window looks over the grounds. The door behind me leads to the hall. The chair is here, this is the chair." She touched the hard back of it with one hand, the other still entangled in her hair. "That dresser contains my clothes – or it did, before they took them away. No mirrors in this room. No mirrors in here."

She hated mirrors. She looked like Bellatrix and Bellatrix looked like Mother and when she looked upon herself, all she could see was a mix of the woman who murdered her daughter and the woman who made her want to kill herself.

"The bedspread is white. The walls are beige. The floor is pale blue. The ceiling is white. The window – it's dark outside, but it's not night. There's a storm coming. It feels like rain."

No, that was wrong. When grounding, it was important to concentrate on the tangible. What IS, not what it FEELS like it is.

"The loo is to my right, the bed is forward and to the left, the door to the hall is behind me, the window overlooks the grounds, one chair, one dresser, no wardrobe, no clothes, no mirrors, faux fireplace, white bedspread. It's fine. Everything's fine. You're fine."

She was not fine.

When a nurse stopped in to bring her potions an hour later, it was to find her curled up in the fetal position on the floor, her arms securely wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were closed and she'd clearly been crying, but when she heard the woman's voice she scrambled to her feet, wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, and glared as if angry at the intrusion.

"Do you need me to fetch a Healer for you, Mrs. Tonks?" asked the nurse, a short, thin, dark-skinned woman with kind eyes.

"That will not be necessary," she answered haughtily, tossing back her hair. "I was merely... resting."

"On the floor?"

"I... it's better for my back. This mattress is terribly uncomfortable! I wake each morning as sore as I'd be if I'd been riding Thestrals all day. For all they money this place costs, one would think they could afford decent accommodations!"

"I'm sorry the mattress is not up to your standards," said the nurse, but without a hint of maliciousness. She set a small tray with tea and two scones down on the dresser top, as there was no table in the room, not even a small one beside the bed. "To hold you over until dinner," she explained unnecessarily; they had tea here at three every day. Patients could either take it in one of the two social rooms or, in nice weather, out in the courtyard, unless they were confined to their rooms as Andromeda now was. Not that she had any desire to be social anyway, but she had enjoyed this part of the day when she and her sister were going through this experience together.

"Has the Minister been here today?" asked Andromeda. She was certain he'd have seen her if he'd come, even though she'd told the head nurse they were forbidden from allowing him into her room (and should tell him she died if he enquired after her). Though she'd said she wanted him to stay away, the truth was, there was a part of her that wanted to see him, to be held by him, to tell him everything, even things she'd never told Ted.

No.

No, that was ridiculous.

It had to be the withdrawal talking.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tonks. He didn't come today."

"Good! I don't want him to come. He may be in charge of the Ministry but he has no power over me! He'd obsessed with me, but I positively loathe him, and last time he was here, I told him so in no uncertain terms, and not for the first time! Perhaps he's finally getting the message."

The nurse nodded sympathetically as she reached out to take one of Andromeda's hands between hers. "The ones we love the most are the ones we hurt the most."

With a squeeze of her hand, the nurse smiled, turned, and left to deliver tea to the next room-arrested patient, leaving Andromeda mercifully and mercilessly alone again.

The next day, despite Healer Artemisia's word, that young girl was not back in group therapy.

"Where is Dorcas?" Andromeda asked, again sitting beside her former friend.

"She wasn't ready. Why do you want to see her so badly?"

"I don't!" Andromeda huffed and sat back in her chair. The truth was, she did. She _did_ want to see the girl – but she wasn't sure why. She hadn't had any interest in her before, not really. Not until she learned the girl had been caught with that vile nurse-slash-dealer. She wasn't angry with him for having used her for sexual satiation, nor was she upset that his concoction had been so strong it had nearly killed her (she still waffled between being grateful it hadn't and wishing it had), but knowing he'd taken advantage of that fragile, already abused girl cause a knot to form in her stomach, one that wouldn't begin to unravel until she saw the girl for herself, until she could be sure the girl would be alright.

She wanted to talk to her, witch-to-witch.

She wanted to tell her that no amount of drugs or alcohol or casual promiscuity would do a damned thing to make her feel better about her shitty lot in life, that there was no escaping the past, and the future would always be darker than it could have been because of it.

But she also wanted to make her feel better.

To tell her it can get better. She can do better and be better and live better.

That day, during the group session, Andromeda shared voluntarily for the first time. They were talking about guilt, about how much it hurt them knowing their actions hurt their loved ones, and she almost wanted to cry with the pain of it.

"I have a grandson," she started, glancing around the group. Most of the witches and wizards here had been strangers to her upon arrival, though she recognized Marietta Mulciber-Hearst from Hogwarts – she'd been in Bella's year – who got high to escape being the only member of her immediate family not dead or in jail, and she knew of reclusive Lavender Brown, Harry Potter's fellow Gryffindor who'd been mauled by a non-transformed Greyback during the Battle of Hogwarts and now drank to escape the scars she bore both on the outside and in.

"Would you like to tell us a little about him?" asked Artemisia gently. Andromeda nodded.

"Teddy, named for my late husband. He's five years old. He was only a baby when his mother and father were killed in the Battle at Hogwarts, the Final Battle at the end of the war. His mother, my daughter Nymphadora, was an Auror and a member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. She was also my whole world. When she was killed I was..." Andromeda's voice cracked and inwardly she panicked. Perhaps this had been a mistake. But her eye caught Lavender's and for some reason, the empathy she saw there compelled her to push on. "I was home with the baby. My husband had already been killed by Snatchers and... and I didn't want Nymphadora to go, to fight. She was a new mother, she needed to be home with her baby. But, as usual, she did not listen to me. She and her husband – his name was Remus Lupin, he was in the Order as well – they rushed off to help Harry and I stayed home. I... I don't know that anything would have been different had I gone, but I do know she wouldn't be dead if I had managed to convince her to stay put."

"That's not your fault!" exclaimed Lavender, looking horrified. "We all had a choice, even students! Over seventeen, we were allowed to stay and fight if we felt it was the right thing to do, which most of us did! If you're daughter had stayed home, she would have spent the rest of her life blaming herself for not preventing the deaths of her friends and her husband! Blaming yourself for not stopping her from doing the right thing doesn't make a damn bit of sense!"

Andromeda was taken aback. Though this made perfect sense, no one had ever shouted it at her before.

"I... the point is, she's dead, and I couldn't stop her from dying, and I wasn't there when she died..." This was the other thing that stabbed Andromeda straight through the heart. If she could have left Teddy with someone else, with anyone else, she could have gone to Hogwarts too, she could have stopped Bella...

"She would have died whether you'd been there or not," insisted Lavender. "People were dying everywhere, all around. You couldn't have prevented that."

"You don't understand. My _sister_ murdered her. My daughter was murdered by my own bloody _sister_ and the only reason my sister targeted her was because of _me,_ because _I_ left our family to marry a Muggleborn and was subsequently disowned, disgraced. Bellatrix wanted to prune the branches of our family tree – her words, I'm told – and she did so by taking away my only baby..." Her breath hitched on her throat but still, she pressed on. "And now I have a grandson and he's recently turned five and just like my daughter, he needs so much – he's a Metamorphmagus, as she was – and I don't think I can provide him the care he needs, I can't do it again, I can't raise another child, and this time I'm doing it alone, and... and... and he looks so much like her, and... and when I nearly died, he was the one who found me, who used the Floo Network to call for help, and he... he... he thought I was dead, and..."

The dam holding back her emotions broke then, and she doubled over, her forehead to her knees, as the tears came, shaking her shoulders and causing small wet spots all over her cotton pajama bottoms. She clutched her stomach as if a knife had been thrust into it and swallowed hard, though it felt like drinking down shards of glass.

"He's... so... much... better... off... without... _me_!" she managed to get out before she was crying too hard to form another word. She felt the arms of Healer Artemisia around her and wanted to shrug her off, wanted to present herself as angry or aloof or unaffected as she always did... anything would be better than this shameful, sobbing mess. But try as she did, she couldn't get herself together, and after a minute or so a nurse came to escort her back to her room, where a Calming Draught was administered to soothe her and abate the hysterics.

She looked for Dorcas Kensington again at Group Therapy the next day, and the next, but the week ended without the girl's return.

And it ended without a visit from Kingsley Shacklebolt.

And it ended without any word from her sister and Snape about Teddy.

And by the end of the week, all she could do was pace and pull at her hair, leaving black and silver strands on the white floor of her private room, consumed by withdrawal and memories, flashbacks and nightmares from which she could not wake up. She wanted to get drunk, to get high. She wanted to disappear, to stop feeling, to forget. She wanted her husband and her daughter.

She wanted her family back.

She wanted her little sister, her only friend.

She wanted her grandson. She wanted to be a better grandmother.

She wanted her lover. She wanted to be loved by him again, to tell him she loved him.

She did not want to be alone.

She did not want to die.

But she did not know how to live.

Not anymore.


	5. Part One: Week 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 **END OF WEEK 5**

Another week passed without a single visitor. She shouldn't have been surprised – technically, she wasn't even permitted visitors since her 'indiscretion' a couple of weeks prior – but the longer time passed without a visit from Kingsley, the more she became convinced he would never come, and it hurt.

That young girl, Dorcas Kensington, returned to group therapy, but Andromeda lost the desire to talk to her.

No, that wasn't true. It wasn't disinterest keeping her from approaching the girl. It was another, much less familiar emotion: fear.

What was she afraid of?

She couldn't say exactly.

But whenever she thought about a one-to-one conversation with Dorcas, she couldn't help thinking about that little pile of hair behind her dresser, where she'd taken to hiding the strands she pulled out to avoid detection by the house-elves (who'd mentioned the strands to a nurse after cleaning her room one day). She was careful not to yank from the top of her head but at the back, so the little bald spot forming was hidden underneath. Now whenever she felt she needed a drink or a fix, she just twisted and tugged her hair instead.

Probably not the best replacement for her bad habits – her addictions – but she needed _something_.

The week passed quickly and then it was Friday. During Group Therapy in the morning, Lavender Brown opened up about her appearance, about drinking to forget what she looked like.

Andromeda could relate to that.

"I can use a Glamour, of course," Lavender said, "But there's so much to hide it gives my face a blurry look, and then witches and wizards stare at me wondering what I'm hiding, while Muggles rub their eyes wondering why I don't look right. I haven't had a single date since it happened that wasn't out of pity and going nowhere. It's been five years! Five years and not a single boy..." Lavender sniffled and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her light blue pajama top. She had been allowed to wear her own clothes until yesterday. Andromeda wondered what had changed.

"I used to be pretty," lamented Lavender. "Boys used to look at me because I was pretty, not because of..." she gestured toward her face. "All this."

"Let's talk about how we see ourselves," said Artemisia. "Does the way we view ourselves impact the way others see us?"

Andromeda sighed. It was going to be a _long_ session.

After group therapy ended there was a light lunch, which Andromeda ate alone in her room. She nibbled the bread of her sandwich but didn't touch the meat and barely sipped the gillywater.

She was thinking about Kingsley, about the way he'd seen past her invisible scars and past her resemblance to her sister right from the very beginning. She was thinking about the first time he kissed her after their ice cream dinner, and the first time he told her he loved her, and then when he asked her to marry him. She'd said no to his proposal and then gave him a half-true explanation and he'd said he understood, but she knew it had hurt him.

The truth was, she couldn't be his wife, not because she didn't love him, but because he was the bloody _Minister for Magic_.

All of Wizarding Europe looked to the Minister for Magic for guidance, even countries with strong magical governments of their own, like France and Germany. They wanted to see at the helm a witch or wizard capable of making good decisions, of doing what's right, of keeping people safe and surrounding himself (or herself) with honest, hardworking, scandal-free people.

Andromeda did not fit that description.

She was worried if their relationship was too public – the level of public _marriage_ would be – former acquaintances would come out of the woodwork seeking favors from the Ministry in exchange for a promise not to peddle truth-based gossip about her to the Prophet. She was afraid being too closely associated with her would be bad for him, for even though most people who knew her only thought of her as 'that witch who works at St. Mungo's' or 'Tonks' mum' or "Bellatrix Lestrange's sister,' there were others who knew her for much more nefarious or scandalous reasons, and she last thing she was willing to do was to hurt his career, thus she had no choice but to hurt him on a less public, more personal level, by asking that they continue to date but do no more.

 _Bloody hell._

She couldn't focus on his proposal. Not now. Not if she wanted to keep her hair and her sobriety and her sanity.

Instead she crawled into bed, figuring a nurse or elf could wake her later for her individual therapy session, closed her eyes, and tried to relive a different time with him.

The first time he spent the night at her home.

They'd been sleeping together for nearly a year at that point, since February 2001, but always they either went to his place or went away for the weekend, leaving little Teddy with Narcissa or Draco or Harry Potter. Teddy had taken her breakup with Barnaby hard, especially as it meant losing his best friend and playmate (Barnaby's grandson, whom the man was raising) so she wasn't keen to see him too attached to another pseudo father figure too soon.

But it was New Year's Eve and she didn't have a sitter, so she invited the Minister over for dinner and drinks.

Narcissa and Severus joined them too, for a couple of hours. They brought their one-year-old daughter, who giggled delightedly as Kingsley made faces at her, but they left for home at eight, with Narcissa explaining that she was exhausted from having been up all night the night before.

"She's going through a sleepless phase," she said as Severus' bundled the little girl into an entirely unnecessary bulky snowsuit. (It was cold, yes, but they only had to travel next door!) "It's like having a newborn all over again. I can only sleep for an hour at a time. Well. Love you!" Narcissa kissed her sister on the cheek, which Andromeda permitted, though she pulled a face.

"You know I hate it when you get affectionate with me," she said in a scolding tone.

"And you know I _love_ getting affectionate with you," replied Narcissa cheerfully. "You're my favorite sister."

"Oh, I'm so glad." Andromeda rolled her eyes. "I outrank the dead murderer, how quaint."

"Excuse me, I misspoke. I meant to say you're my _second_ favorite sister. I forgot about the dead murderer. _She_ didn't mind my affection."

Andromeda laughed. _There_ was the Narcissa she liked best; the one who insulted and fought with her. That Narcissa had all-but disappeared with the birth of her daughter and marriage to the potions master. It was damned irritating, having to deal with such a happy, down-to-earth person in place of the privileged, arrogant bitch she'd always been.

"See you next year, Cissy, you vapid, mollycoddled snob."

"Have a lovely rest of the evening, you sardonic, uncouth blood-traitor."

"You married a half-blood, don't forget. At least I'm sleeping with a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight."

"Dear Merlin," said Narcissa, a look of faux-shock on her face. "I hadn't realized. Mother would be so proud!"

"She's probably turning over in her grave. Assuming you buried her."

"Of course we buried her. We were kind enough, though, to wait to do so until after she'd died."

"You always were the more considerate sister. Had I had my way, those things would've happened in reverse order."

"You're a monster, Meda."

"But not a Death Eater." Andromeda tapped her forearm while staring at her sister's, where they both knew the Dark Mark had once been.

"Sod off."

"Bite me."

"Don't tempt me." Narcissa flashed a grin. "I like to bite. Ask my husband; he'll confirm."

"That was more information than I needed, thanks. Now please excuse me as I vomit."

"Jealousy _does_ make some witches physically ill. Oh, dear, you're even looking a little green, Meda."

"Better green than translucent, Cissy. Fuck, I thought _I_ was light-skinned, but you're ghost-like. You could be haunting Hogwarts."

"But if I were haunting Hogwarts, who would stop over every Sunday afternoon to annoy you?"

Both sisters laughed and this time, Andromeda accepted a hug from her sister without complaint.

"They enjoy this... talk?" Kingsley asked Severus. He was not as used to seeing the two of them together.

"I can't understand it either," replied the former Headmaster in his deep, even-keeled tone. "Happy New Year, Kingsley."

"To you, too, Severus."

Shortly after their departure, Andromeda put the three-year-old to bed. It was later than his usual bedtime but she asked Kingsley if he minded waiting so she could read the boy his usual stories.

"He's very tied to our routine," she explained, though if she were being honest, she'd admit that she was the one who preferred to do things the exact same way every single night, just as she had when Nymphadora was small.

"Of course I do not mind!" Kingsley settled himself back on the couch, surveying the impeccable tidy room, in which every bin containing toys of Teddy's was properly labeled, every book on every shelf was organized first by subject matter, then by last name of author, and every speck of dust had been removed from the premises, as she made sure to dust every surface in the home twice per day. (Her talent for domestic spells made the obsessive-compulsive cleaning much less time-consuming than it would be the Muggle way, thankfully.)

Andromeda carried the sleepy boy to his bedroom, where a small white toddler bed had replaced his crib nearly a year before. She held him in her lap to read the first story – a Muggle fairy tale called Cinderella, about a mistreated girl who manages to lose a glass high-heel while running down palace stairs but miraculously doesn't fall down said stairs in the process – then tucked him in for the second, as was their tradition. His eyelids were drooping as she began The Tale of the Three Brothers from Tales of Beedle the Bard, and by the time she reached the end he was sound asleep. She returned the books to their shelf and glanced up to see Kingsley in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" she whispered.

"Since that girl danced with the prince," he whispered back.

Hiding a smile, she moved to the hall, quietly closing Teddy's door behind her. His hands were immediately on her waist as he pinned her between his body and the wall.

"I enjoyed listening to you read. You do different voices for different characters. It's quite theatrical. You could have been an actress."

She felt her cheeks reddening, though she was not typically the type to blush.

"Shall we go back downstairs and have a drink, or would you rather take me to bed?"

"Let's not rush." He kissed her briefly, tenderly, on the lips. "We have all year to go to bed."

She smirked and pushed him away. "A drink it is. But first, I need to change out of this dress. Why I bothered to get dressed up for my sister, I don't know."

"I assumed you dressed up for me." He tugged the hem of her shimmery black cocktail dress, which only went to her mid-thigh.

"I didn't think I needed to impress you with pretty dresses. You've seen me naked and you're still interested. I think it's safe to say your judgment is impaired when it comes to what I'm wearing... or not wearing."

"You're beautiful regardless of what you wear... or do not wear."

"Stop it, Minister, or I'll lose all control and insist upon going to bed right now," she teased. She reached for the knob of her bedroom door, shooting him a seductive look before disappearing into the room. When she emerged, he had returned to the sitting room downstairs and she was indeed more comfortable.

"This is a new look," he said as his eyes roved over her from his spot on the couch. She was wearing an over-sized Oxford University t-shirt that was nearly as long as her dress had been, thrown over light blue jeans. She had also traded her heels for fluffy green slippers.

"You said I'm beautiful regardless of what I wear, so I'm wearing what I would be if you weren't here." She climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He was wearing a traditional wizard's robe, this one in dark blue, and his usual hat, one popular among wizards in Nigeria, where his parents emigrated from.

"I meant what I said." He placed his hands on her bum and smiled into her kiss. After a few minutes of casual snogging, she slipped off him, got them each a glass of elf-made red wine (this used to be Narcissa's favorite, but the recovering alcoholic had insisted upon maintaining her sobriety by drinking Butterbeer with dinner and coffee with dessert).

They chatted and laughed and even delved into the more serious subject of their pureblood childhoods over the next few hours until it was nearing midnight.

At twelve exactly, they toasted the New Year and shared an intoxicating kiss. Andromeda banished their goblets to the sink, where they began washing themselves by magic, and took her lover by the hand, intending to lead him back to her bedroom.

But upon reaching the second floor landing, she started to have second thoughts.

And by the time she was on her back on the bed and he was lowering himself over her, both still fully clothed, she was full-on panicking.

"I've never done this," she said, pushing back against his shoulders. He sat up, looking confused. It wasn't as if she was a virgin. Hell, they'd first shagged each other against the wall of a storeroom at St. Mungo's while she was working and both were technically dating other people (though his relationship hadn't been a serious one). To what 'this' could she be referring? His brow furrowed as he looked her over carefully.

"Done what?"

"I..." She sat up too, cross-legged and facing him. "I've never taken a man home. This... this is the home I shared with my husband, as you know, and this is our room, and our bed, and..."

"I could go, if you're uncomfortable," he said. She started to shake her head but he quickly added, "Or I could stay and we could simply... sleep. Or I could sleep on your couch. Or..."

"No! No, please." She cupped his face gently, guiding him toward her. "Please, I want to. I just thought you should know – it's the first time. Here. Like this. With... anyone else. But it's fine. It's good. You should kiss me."

His lips had just brushed hers when she pulled back again.

"I loved my husband very much, you know. As I told you before, I had an affair – one affair – that I always regretted, and I did a few other... questionable things... through the years, but I loved him very much. I still love him. I always will. He was a wonderful person, he was–"

"I know." Kingsley kissed her temple before settling back on foot of the bed. "I met him once, when Nymphadora was made an Auror, remember? You both came to her swearing in. He and I had a long conversation after; he was proud, but worried."

"Yes." It hurt Andromeda to remember that. Like Ted, she hadn't wanted her daughter to become an Auror. Even before Voldemort's second rise, they both thought it was too dangerous a profession.

"You'd make an excellent professor," Ted had told her. "You could talk to Professor Dumbledore, see if there are any openings on the horizon. You have a way with people. Students would enjoy your classes."

"You could get married," Andromeda had said. "Meet a nice boy, settle down, have children... I could teach you all of the domestic spells you refused to learn when you were younger!"

Nymphadora had hated her mother's suggestion more than her father's but considered both awful alternatives to following her dream.

"Kingsley?" Andromeda inched closer to him on the bed. "I want this. I want you. I do, really. I've been looking forward to you spending the night all week. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you. I want to make love with you."

"If you change your mind..." he started, but she silenced the words by pressing her lips to his. His palm again went to her cheek, under her hair, as she took him by the shoulders, guiding him on top of her.

They were kissing and caressing and murmuring words of affection to each other when he slipped his strong, large hands up her t-shirt, running them over the bare skin of her abdomen. He brought one up to her breast and she inhaled sharply in response.

"Should I stop?" he whispered, applying just enough pressure against her upper body. She shook her head, reached up to remove his cap, and dropped it on her bedside table.

"Please don't stop."

They resumed kissing. His hands continued to explore her upper body under her shirt as she ran her hands over his arms and back and shoulders. Her pulse quickened and her breathing became hitched as he touched her; she couldn't help arching against him, needing him.

As much as she loved her husband, she had to admit she'd never had better sex than what she had with Kingsley, from their first inappropriate tryst in a storeroom to their most recent weekend away together, during which they hardly left the hotel room.

He groaned as she parted her thighs, letting his pelvis settle between her legs, allowing her to feel his growing arousal through the fabric of his robe and her jeans.

"Now," he moaned, gripping her breast hard and thrusting against her. "I need you now."

She closed her eyes as he tore off her shirt, tossing it to the floor, which she wanted him to do - but for some reason, as soon as her skin and bra-covered breasts were bared to him, she felt the overwhelming desire to cover up again. He was reaching back to unhook her bra when she grabbed both of his wrists, holding his hands in front of her.

"I've been gaining weight. I don't know if you noticed. I think it's age. I'll be fifty next year. Next May. I'm not as thin as I used to be. I think I've gained a stone since we started seeing each other."

"Why do you do this?" He rolled off of her, settling beside her on the bed. She was still flat on her back so he positioned himself on his side, half up, with one hand propped up against his face and the other resting on her lower abdomen.

"Do what?"

"During our first date, before I kissed you, you stopped me to inform me that men think you resemble your older sister, remember?"

Of course she remembered. The fact that he said he couldn't see it was what made her fall for him.

"Then, the first time I undressed you fully, you stopped me just before I removed your knickers to tell me that you burn in the sun, as if knowing you cannot tan would make me less interested in you."

"I _do_ burn in the sun," she said defensively, feeling horribly exposed in a way that had nothing to do with half her clothing being on the floor.

"Do you remember how you responded the first time I told you I love you?"

"I... I believe I said it back." She avoided his eye. "I said that I love you too."

"Not at first. I said I loved you and you replied, 'You know that I have bad blood, right? I come from a terrible family. I was in Slytherin, same as they were.' You don't recall?"

She _did_ recall but pretended otherwise, shrugging this off.

"I may have said something to that effect, but if I did, I am certain there was a reason–"

"The first time I told you you're beautiful, you said, 'My younger sister was always the prettiest of the three of us.' The first time I asked you to spend the night with me, you said, 'I am utterly impossible to live with because I'm obsessed with neatness and cleanliness and order.' The first time we showered together, you wouldn't let me turn on the water until you warned me that it makes your hair go limp 'like that of a wet dog.' It's as if you cannot – I don't know. It's not quite as if you can't take a compliment, but... why do you feel you need to convince me I shouldn't feel for you what I do?"

"I had a partial hysterectomy eight years ago," she blurted, though she immediately wanted to kick herself for it. "I had a very difficult pregnancy with Nymphadora. I doubled in size. Now I need glasses for distance, but that's not why I needed surgery years later. The two are unrelated." Unable to stop the stupid words from tumbling out of her mouth, she added, "Even though it was only a partial, I can't give you children. Not that you want them. But if you did... I can't. The Healer left my ovaries but removed the uterus. I'm sorry."

She wanted to sink into the mattress and disappear.

But, to her surprise, he chuckled.

"You are doing it again, Andromeda."

Unable to admit she realized she was doing it but also unable to control the urge, she replied, "I simply feel, in the interest of full disclosure, that there are things you should know before we're intimate. Is that such an awful thing?"

"We've been 'intimate' on the regular for nearly a year. You think I haven't noticed that you're pale? I can see your veins through your skin." He leaned down, pressing his lips to her midsection. "And while I'm glad to know you won't be surprising me with a baby, you do not owe me your entire medical history." He kissed lower, just above the band of her jeans. "I think you're dead wrong about being less attractive than your sisters." He now pressed his lips to the button of her jeans before undoing it. Her hand went to the back of his head, nonverbally encouraging him to continue. "Furthermore, bad blood is not real. Your beliefs and your choices are far more important than your bloodline. You know that better than anyone."

He followed the unbuttoning with unzipping and she couldn't help wriggling her hips, making it easier for him to shimmy her out of the jeans. He kissed her over her knickers, the same lacy black ones she'd been wearing under her dress, which did match the plain white cotton bra she'd thrown on under the shirt.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm heavier now than I was a year ago? You don't mind that I've gone up a dress size?"

"Of course not." He kissed lower, over the lips of her vulva through her lace pants, which momentarily robbed her of the ability to properly breathe. "You've gone up a bra size too. I am not complaining."

"Why are men such perverse creatures?" she asked, but she kept her hand at the back of his head, guiding him back to her center, as his lips had traveled to her inner thigh. "What is this fascination with breasts you all seem to have?"

"Not all of us." He flicked his tongue against her and she moaned. "And even those of us who enjoy them are capable of appreciating other parts of your anatomy." He moved his body back up, grabbing her arse has he did so, and buried his face against her neck. "There isn't a centimeter of your body that I haven't touched, tasted, or seen, and I've enjoyed all parts equally."

"You lie," she said before pulling him into a searing kiss. This time, she let him remove her bra, tossing it down to the floor with the rest of her clothes. Her knickers were next to go, followed by his robe and pants, leaving them both completely exposed to each other.

"Kingsley?" she whispered as he resumed his oral exploration of her body.

"Mm?"

"Am I among the best you've had?" She propped herself up on her elbows, which thrust her chest forward, and gazed down at him. He paused to glance up at her, confusion etched across his face.

"The best what?"

"In bed. How am I? Compared to... others?"

"Definitely in the top one-hundred."

"Alright," she said. She collapsed back to her back, staring at the ceiling, pondering this. The top hundred would only be good if there were literally thousands, putting her at a high percentage, she reckoned.

After a second's silence, he laughed. Not another small chuckle, but a big, booming laugh.

"Alright? You're going to accept that I've been with so many witches I can only safely place you within the top hundred?"

"You're a good-looking, charming, and powerful man, it's possible."

"You are the best I've had, Andromeda, though I've slept with nowhere near a hundred witches. And you?"

"Oh, I haven't slept with anywhere near a hundred witches either."

He smirked before pressing soft lips to her inner thigh, grasping the back of her leg. He pleasured her this way until she was writhing and bucking, on the precipice of orgasm and positively begging for him, and then they made love in her favorite position, with him on top, their chests flush against each other, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. Though she knew her younger sister considered this the most boring option, she loved how small and safe and special she felt when held by him this way. It made it easy to kiss and caress and exchange words of affection, breathed into each other's ears between gasps and moans, and felt much more intimate than riding him or being taken from behind.

Before succumbing to sleep, they crawled under the blankets, not bothering to dress. He pulled her to him, encouraging her to rest her cheek upon his chest. She ran her fingers through his dark chest hair, her leg flung over his, as he assured her yet again that he loved her.

She loved to hear this, even if she couldn't quite believe it.

No, that wasn't true. She believed that he loved her, but she also knew that he could only love the _her_ he knew. Which is why she kept many secrets from him, only to accidentally blurt them out at inopportune times. Small ones, like her weight gain, and bigger ones, like that affair she'd had, but not the biggest ones... not the ones she didn't tell anyone. Ever.

If she was being completely honest with herself, she'd admit that the reason she blurted out these smaller secrets when they were intimate was because she was terrified if he knew the bigger ones, he wouldn't love her, or want her, and letting out the small stuff kept the big stuff from slipping out instead.

On Friday afternoon, as she lay in bed in the rehabilitation facility, she was half-hoping he'd come to visit and half-hoping he'd move on and find someone more deserving of his affections, while alternately replaying happier moments together in her head and constructing scenarios in which she told him the truths she hadn't even fully confessed to Ted, imagining all the ways he might express repulsion in response, but not daring to envision him taking her in his arms and promising to love her anyway.

"You're pathetic," she said aloud, glaring at the ceiling. "This is precisely why nobody likes you."

"What do you mean, nobody likes you?" asked a voice from the doorway.

His voice.

No.

She must be imagining it.

She sat up, glad she was fully clothed (well, in those damned pajamas) and atop the covers... as fantasizing about him had very nearly resulted in being found in a much more _interesting_ position.

"Kingsley?"

"Are you still determined never to see me again, or...?"

She did not let him finish his sentence. She was up and out of bed in a millisecond, flying into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when his arms slipped around her waist. He kicked the door closed behind him.

"I've missed you," he said softly, stroking her hair. "I've missed holding you. I miss being with you."

"I cheated on my History of Magic O.W.L. and didn't get caught," she replied, her face buried against his broad chest. "I didn't deserve 'Exceeds Expectations,' I should have barely managed 'Acceptable,' but I never told a soul, not even my sisters."

He chuckled, kissed the top of her head, and held her tighter.

"I love you, too, Andromeda."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to those who reviewed Chapters 3 and 4: somethingnew2016, FrancineHibiscus, sassanech, emrldapplejuice, clarasnotlikely, and JUJUChick16. I didn't expect to upload a new chapter quite this quickly so there might be one more before Christmas, but if not definitely right after. Thank you so much to anyone following this fic! I am really loving writing this one. She's such a fascinating character to explore since we know so much about her family from canon but so little about her personally. I didn't mean to make a chapter that was mostly flashback but what started as a quick little scene to better illustrate their relationship kind of took off like this. :) I hope you don't mind. Back to the present in Chapter Six/Week 6.

Please continue sharing your thoughts! I appreciate it.

Thank you!

 ***AL**


	6. Part One: Week 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

 **END OF WEEK 6**

She spent the week holding onto the memory of his visit. She'd apologized profusely for the pain she'd been putting him through over the last year and he'd said he'd forgiven her, but she couldn't help worrying he was only saying so to keep her calm, to avoid triggering a relapse. What if he couldn't _truly_ forgive her? What if he didn't _really_ love her?

When she and Ted were first married, she asked him all the time whether he still loved her. He'd laugh and say he did and tease her about needing to know all the time, but she couldn't help being insecure. The people who brought her into the world, the people who should have loved her most, her mother and father, completely disowned her for marrying him. They wrote her out of the family and burned her off the tapestry and informed her sisters that they were never to speak to her again. Narcissa, even-dutiful, the perfect daughter, had obeyed. She hadn't said a single word to Andromeda in decades before they reconnected, but Bellatrix, the fiery, independent one, sent her regular letters during that first year.

Bella started by calling her foolish and saying she'd made her point about not wanting the arranged marriage to Rabastan Lestrange, that she could give up the ruse and rebellion now and return.

 _Dear Meda,_

 _You don't wish to be treated like property, is that it? I did not enjoy it either, but I've made do, and so will you! Rabastan is fighting for the Dark Lord, same as my Rodolphus, and though Lestranges make for lousy husbands their blood with ours will produce proper children. Don't you want children?_

 _Write back!_

 _Love,_

 _Bella_

Then she seemed to get desperate, begging Andromeda to reconsider before it was too late, reminding her than an annulment was still possible so long as she could get him to agree to it, and assuring her he wasn't the only pureblood man of whom Mother and Father would approve.

 _Dearest Dromeda,_

 _Stop ignoring my Owls!_

 _The Shafiqs, Notts, Parkinsons, Rowles, and Zabinis all have sons between the ages of seventeen and thirty-five. Mother is willing to claim you were under a spell or potion when you left; once your marriage is annulled, we may very well be able to find you a new husband! You have so much to offer. You're attractive, intelligent, and relatively docile (more so than I!). At least, you are when you're not being a complete dunderhead. (Isn't that a great word? I just stole it from Lucius Malfoy who learned it from some ickle first year). You've met the Nott boy and Rowle, and I've met Zabini and Shafiq - of those available, I'd push you toward Zabini, age 28, a Quidditch Keeper. He's great in bed. (Don't ask how I know.)_

 _In all seriousness, love, please, please think about what you're doing – to yourself, to me, to Cissy, to our family and our bloodline and especially to your future children. _

_Your favorite sister,_

 _Bella_

She even opened up, saying she was certain she knew _why_ her sister had left, that there must be a 'real' reason, that being in love with a Muggle-born didn't suffice, and that she understood, could relate, and would help.

 _Andromeda,_

 _Please, witch, be reasonable. Give Mother a chance. I spoke with her, I told her the real reason you left, or what I believe it to be, and she was not entirely unsympathetic. I think she can be persuaded to accept you back with a proper apology! But the longer you let this sham of a marriage continue, the less likely it is you'll be able to escape it unscathed._

 _As for the rest – you know what I'm referring to – I'm sorry, I should have warned you._

 _But you'll live. You're strong. You're (still) a Black._

 _Don't be an idiot._

 _Yours,_

 _Bellatrix_

But over time the letters became less insistent about reconciliation and more filled with vitriol, as Bellatrix grew to hate Andromeda.

The last one simply read:

 _Mrs. Tonks,_

 _It's been twelve months exactly since you decided you'd rather be dead to our parents than do what's right and I am no longer willing to extend the olive branch in an attempt to save you from yourself. I hope you regret destroying our family, I hope you live a life of suffering, and I hope the Dark Lord personally sees to it that your filthy Mudblood husband does not survive long enough to sully our bloodline by producing mongrel children with you._

 _Cordially, your_ _former_ _sister,_

 _Mrs. Lestrange_

Little did Bellatrix know that Andromeda and Ted were already trying to become pregnant, despite their financial struggles, and had every intention of having several "mongrel" children and staying together until they were both old and gray and death did them part.

Andromeda wondered, sometimes, whether things with Bellatrix would have been different had she replied to even one of the Owls. They likely would not have reconciled, as Andromeda had no interest in leaving Ted to marry anyone of her parents' choosing, but perhaps Bella wouldn't have grown so angry, harbored such betrayal, ultimately leading her to murdering her own niece.

But what good did it do to wonder? They were both dead.

(So why couldn't Andromeda stop wondering?)

During Kingsley's visit, he'd settled with Andromeda on the bed (most inappropriately, and against the rules) and held her securely in his arms while she rambled specific apologies for every time she'd gotten drunk or high or purposely hurt herself or slept with Rowle since they'd started dating, until he was able to convince her she did not need to do so.

He'd also kissed her temple and stroked her hair and let her rest her cheek against his chest to hear his heartbeat and even gave in when she initiated an intense several minutes of snogging, but he was insistent that they not have sex, despite her repeated requests.

"I told you, such relations are not permitted within this facility," he said.

"They weren't permitted at St. Mungo's either," she pointed out. "Nor were they permitted in your office at the Ministry. But that didn't stop you before."

"You weren't in recovery before," he said. "And as I've previously told you, I regret the way our first coupling occurred, though I do not regret what came from it."

She ran her hand up and down his chest, over his silky purple wizard's robe, though she wished she could run her fingers through the hair on his chest instead.

"Do you regret shagging me on your desk?"

Despite himself, Kingsley smirked. "No, I do not regret that. Though we should not allow it to happen again."

"You're no fun." She leaned up to kiss the corner of his lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He held her tighter, with both arms, as she relaxed into his embrace. The only good thing about rehab thus far, as far as she was concerned, was that he'd resumed telling her he loved her rather than saying he cared for her.

He stayed for hours, right through what was supposed to have been her individual therapy session, which she appreciated as she hadn't wanted to sit for the damned thing anyway. Dating the Minister for Magic had its difficulties, but it also had its perks.

Before he left, as she walked him to the door, he handed her a pair of eyeglasses. Her glasses.

"Narcissa thought you might need these," he explained. "She asked me to bring them."

"How is she?" asked Andromeda, opening them and placing them on her head, the way she often wore them at home. "How are Severus and baby Hope and... and my Teddy?"

She rarely asked about Teddy. It hurt too much.

"Doing well. I joined them for dinner the night before last. Teddy wants you home, though. He asked why you're not feeling better yet and informed me that last time he was sick, he felt better in one week exactly. He said your Healers must not be very good and suggested you let Severus care for you instead."

She smiled. It was true that he'd only been sick for a week when the stomach bug got him, and it was indeed Severus whose potions made him all better. If only the same would work for her.

"Tell Teddy his sickness was in his tummy, but mine is in my head. A head sickness takes longer to heal. Will you tell him that?"

"I shall tell him you miss him, love him, and look forward to being reunited with him as soon as you are well."

"He's better off with my sister." Andromeda nuzzled against his neck, comforted when his arms wrapped around her as hers were around him. "He has the ideal family at present: two parents, a younger sister, a house-elf, a dog..."

"He's better off with _you_ , when you're well." Kingsley kissed her gently. "He says he misses the way you read his bedtime stories and make beans on toast and say bad words. He also says Narcissa fusses over him too much, feeds him disgusting foods like duck and crab, and makes him dress like a prat."

"He did _not_ say that!"

"He did!"

"He said she dresses him like a _prat?"_ Andromeda snickered. Though she let slip a number of four-letter words in the child's presence, she was certain that one hadn't come from her. Her guess was that he'd picked it up at the home of his godfather, Harry Potter.

"In his defense, he was wearing a little Muggle-style suit and bowtie the other night for dinner, though she admitted she tries to get him into child-sized wizard's robes for everyday wear, which he fights. I do not believe she has any concept of casual clothing. The child always looks like he's on his way to a board meeting or a Yule Ball. That night, her house-elf made lobster wellington for dinner, which he ate begrudgingly, as if it were slop. It appears he did not inherit the fine palate of the Black family..." He bumped his pelvis to her, making her giggle. "Much like his grandmother."

"My poor baby." Andromeda tried to picture the five-year-old in long, silky wizard's robes, the overpriced, uncomfortable sort she imagined Narcissa would buy, and had to laugh. Teddy strongly preferred t-shirts and jeans, like her. Like his mother.

And Kingsley was correct about the boy's palate. When Andromeda left her family, she and Ted were too poor to eat how she'd grown up accustomed to, or even to feed themselves like they could at Hogwarts. Beans on toast, porridge, fish and chips, soft-boiled eggs, and cheap takeaway were all regular meals, though sometimes meals were skipped altogether. After thirty years of eating that way, she no longer craved – or even enjoyed – the sophisticated meals she'd grown up with.

"Please don't let her turn my darling boy into a prat," Andromeda said as Kingsley kissed her cheek.

"Very well. In exchange, please don't tell yourself he's better off without you."

Kingsley's departure left Andromeda feeling hollow and more alone than she had in weeks. Though she remained unconvinced that her sister wouldn't do a better job of raising the child than she could, she missed Teddy terribly and, for the first time since she'd arrived, she wanted him back.

That was nearly a week ago.

She was now in Week Six of the twelve week rehabilitation program. The halfway point. The point at which the Calming Draught and withdrawal medications would start to be phased out.

Kingsley would not be visiting this week or, likely, next. He was out of the country on Ministry business. She was still not being permitted other visitors, not that anyone would be coming to see her even if she were.

Before the start of Group Therapy on Thursday, Andromeda struck up a chat with Healer Artemisia again.

"Did I have a reputation at Hogwarts?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Did I?"

Artemisia sighed, combing carefully manicured nails through her lovely auburn hair.

"After you ran off, people talked. Everyone thought you must have been up the duff to leave school with a month to go just to get married. But your younger sister said you'd done it that way because turning of age meant leaving school to begin a courtship or some rubbish–"

"Not rubbish. For one year, from age seventeen to eighteen, we were expected to engage in an official courtship with our betrothed. Bella had done it with Rodolphus. She finished her sixth year but did not return for her seventh as her birthday was over the summer. I turned seventeen in May, on a Thursday. Saturday we had a Hogsmeade visit. I was to leave Hogwarts the following day, Sunday, but Ted and I ran away. We were young and in love and afraid to be separated. He even gave me a ring he'd sent away for, so we could be engaged straight away."

"What did you do, then? Stay with his family?"

"No. We were homeless for weeks, until Madam Rosmerta let us move in above the Three Broomsticks in exchange for working for her."

"Everyone was shocked when he returned seventh year."

"One of us had to finish school," Andromeda sighed. At the time, she'd been jealous, but it seemed the smart thing to do, as she worried returning to school would get her caught by her parents. "I used Glamours to conceal my more defining physical characteristics while I worked and Ted swore he did not know where I was hiding. Rosmerta let me have off Hogsmeade days so I wouldn't have to see... everyone."

"You couldn't return to school too?" Artemisia asked incredulously. "Surely Dumbledore would have–"

"I didn't want to," Andromeda lied. "Rosmerta taught me the domestic spells I needed to be a decent homemaker and once Ted was done Hogwarts, he got a job, we got our first flat, and we did our best with what we had."

"Was he a decent man then?"

"Better than decent. He was too good for me. The night we ran away, I was terrified. I loved him but to leave my family... I did not get along with my mother and had never been close with my father, but I loved my sisters, both of them. Bella was my best friend. We used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to smoke Elven Herbs together and she taught me about boys and magic and the fine art of manipulating our elders. She even brought me to a Death Eaters gathering once, when I was fifteen and she was seventeen, over Easter holiday. Afterward I told her I didn't think pledging devotion to the Dark Lord was in my future and she said, 'He's not for everyone,' and let it go, though she confessed she was in love with him and desperate for him to notice her..." Andromeda couldn't hide a shudder. Though the man had looked human - and, truthfully, been handsome - the one time she met him, she'd been filled with revulsion from their very first interaction, and couldn't imagine anyone loving that monster.

"Disturbing," breathed Artemisia with a shake of her head.

"After Bella's arrest in '81, the Daily Prophet reported she'd been his mistress but I don't know whether that's true. The adoration may have been one-sided; she may have wanted everyone to think she was more to him than just another servant. But the point is, as fanatical as she was about him, when I said I wasn't interested she accepted it and didn't push because she respected my autonomy, more so than anyone else in our family. I was the Maid of Honor in her wedding and she would have been in mine, except..." Andromeda caught herself, cleared her throat, and shook her head. "I apologize. I'm rambling."

"It's alright," said Artemisia gently. "It's alright to tell me."

"I was trying to tell you about Ted and ended up talking about my sister instead." Andromeda shrugged, trying to look unbothered by the memories.

"I want to hear about your sister. I hardly knew her. She had no use for us younger students, but I was always in awe of her. She was beautiful, popular, intelligent - everything the rest of us wanted to be."

Andromeda smiled in spite of herself. She'd been proud of Bella then, when they were students. Proud and envious.

"She was my best friend and even though we fall out when I left the family, there was a part of me that always wondered if we could... if we could..." She swore under her breath. "Narcissa and I are very close, now. Now that the war is over, now that he's really gone. But Bella..." Andromeda pushed her palms against her cheekbones, as if doing so would relieve of her the urge to cry. "That bitch murdered my only fucking child. How could she have grown to hate me so much...?"

"She spent a long time in Azkaban, didn't she?" Artemisia took one of Andromeda's cold, pale hands between her own. "Her rational mind likely rotted away while surrounded by Dementors all those years. It's probable that the sister you knew in your youth died long before she encountered your daughter at Hogwarts. The papers reported she was mad, didn't they?"

"They did." This came as an unexpected comfort to Andromeda. Was it possible that her sister's mind had become so addled during her Azkaban stay, during which all hope and love and light was absorbed from her by soul-sucking Dementors, that she no longer had the ability to love Andromeda upon her escape? The madness and desire to prove herself to her Master remained, because wicked, dark thoughts would not have been stolen by the creatures, unlike happiness and light.

But her last letter had threatened Andromeda's life, and that was written long before she went to prison.

"I'll never know," said Andromeda, trying to delete from her mind the mental image of Bella, age sixteen, pulling her by the hand through the trees, giggling and stumbling over roots, bragging about the Elven Herb with which they were going to smoke themselves stupid without Dumbledore or Slughorn being any the wiser.

 _"_ _It's fun, Meda," Bella had said the first time. "When you're high, you forget every awful thing that's ever happened to you. All you feel is bubbly and bright and invincible and calm and at peace, all at once! But there is no fear or anxiety or self-loathing or bad memories in the back of your mind... they're just... gone! It's the best feeling in the world."_

Andromeda wished she could go back in time to ask Bella for particulars regarding the bad memories she was so desperate to be rid of. As far as Andromeda knew, she and her sisters had lived enviable lives up until that point – they were privileged, pretty, and proud. They wanted for nothing, and were well-respected, well-groomed, and exceedingly wealthy. Hell, they were bloody spoiled – until they attended Hogwarts, the Black sisters had rarely heard the word "No." Sure, Mother was overbearing, always reminding them to sit up straight and act ladylike, to represent their family name and look their best, and Father was often absent, stingy with affection, and believed children were to be seen and not heard, and yes, they were to be married off to men not of their choosing, but aside from that, they'd had the best of everything, always.

So why did confident, arrogant Bella need a way to rid herself of self-loathing?

"She didn't torture her," said Andromeda after a long silence during which most of the rest of the patients took their seats for Group Therapy, which was to commence momentarily. "My sister is known for having been a murderer, but in truth, she killed very rarely, and with discretion. She much preferred to torture. She tortured the Longbottoms into insanity. She tortured Harry Potter in the Department of Mysteries - and it's possible she hadn't meant to kill our cousin first. During the Battle at Hogwarts, she is said to have tortured over a dozen witches and wizards, mostly students, for fun, letting them live. But I am told that when she saw Nymphadora, she said, 'You're my niece, the Metamorph?" And Nymphadora said yes. Then she..."

Andromeda took a long, deep breath, and closed her eyes, picturing it as she had a million times, putting a visual to the scene as it had been described to her by surviving witnesses.

 _"_ _You're my niece, the Metamorph?" asked Bellatrix, wand pointed at the pink-haired witch._

 _"_ _Yes, I am a Metamorph, but if I'm not mistaken, you made it clear long ago I was to be considered no relative of yours." Nymphadora, too, had her wand at the ready._

 _Bellatrix cackled, lowering her wand slightly, casually._

 _"_ _I admire your audacity, girl. Fiery, like your mother. Tell me, how is she, now that she's been widowed? I've heard nothing of her since my friends paid a visit last summer."_

 _"_ _Your 'friends' tortured my parents." Nymphadora glared at her aunt and moved slightly to her right, to put herself in a better position to strike, one in which it would not be possible for a 'friend' to sneak up behind her. Bellatrix pivoted as the younger witch moved, but kept her wand hand lax, clearly not afraid. "Your friends are monsters and murderers, same as you."_

 _"_ _You should be very proud of your parents, though. They gave us nothing. I'm told your mother didn't even cry under the Cruciatus. But you will."_

 _"_ _I'm not afraid of you, Bellatrix Lestrange."_

 _"_ _Your mistake." Bellatrix jabbed her wand forward, making Nymphadora flinched and back up, like a Muggle boxer in a ring, but no curse or jinx came. Bellatrix cackled again, madly this time._

 _"_ _Scared, girl?"_

 _"_ _Not at all!"_

 _Bellatrix jabbed forward a second time and Nymphadora made a dodging move, but as before no curse or jinx came._

 _"_ _It doesn't have to be this way," said Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord could use a skilled Metamorph, despite your unfortunate parentage. He has worked with half-bloods before."_

 _"_ _My father is a wizard. I am no half-blood."_

 _"_ _Your father did not deserve his wand, nor did he deserve my sister. Give up the Order, girl. Denounce Harry Potter and that dead Muggle-lover Dumbledore. I'm giving you but_ one _chance. Take it." She extended her non-wand hand as if it were an olive branch. She pouted out her lips and opened her eyes wide, giving her a look of innocence that would only fool those who knew nothing of her history. "It's alright. You're alright. Come with me, niece. Come with me to the Dark Lord."_

 _"_ _Fuck you, and fuck your Dark Lord."_

 _Bellatrix's heavy-lidded eyes narrowed, flashing with fury. "No one speaks that way of Master."_

 _Nymphadora laughed, letting her face and hair morph to closely resemble that of her mother, which made Bellatrix gasp. The elder witch nearly fumbled her wand, caught with an uncharacteristic expression of pure shock on her face, though she quickly recovered, steeling her gaze and steadying her hand._

 _"How do I look?" asked Nymphadora, still moving, always moving. Finally her back was to the wall. A safer vantage point._

 _"You look like a less attractive version of myself," spat Bellatrix. "This is your last opportunity. Your mother made a mistake when she married your father. Don't you make an even greater mistake here, now."_

 _"_ _Your Master leads the losing side, Auntie – and I'd rather_ die _than pledge allegiance to him. Enjoy your return to Azkaban. When I get home, I'll tell Mum you said hello."_

 _Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin at once reverted to her usual look and shot out a nonverbal spell (no one could say what it was, as it missed the intended target)._

 _Less than a second later, she was dead._

 _"_ _What was that?" snapped Rodolphus Lestrange, sneering down at the dead body of his wife's niece. "You didn't even have any fun with her! Quick conversation and an 'Avada Kedavra' and that's all? You could have made her suffer."_

 _Bellatrix shrugged offhandedly, twirling her wand in her hand. "I wasn't in the mood. What's important is I told the Dark Lord I'd prune my family tree and now I've done it. Let's move on, then."_

 _She whipped around then, catching the Order member who'd been creeping up on her, and promptly had him writhing on the floor with a series of "Crucios," punctuated by more mad cackles._

 _She let that man live, but like the Longbottoms, he'd never be the same._

 _The battle continued._

 _Bellatrix fought on._

 _But Nymphadora was gone._

"I've often wondered why she murdered my daughter, but also why she didn't torture her, didn't battle her. Did she not think my daughter a worthy opponent? Or was she afraid if they battled, she'd lose? Is it that she was following You-Know-Who's order, but had no desire to torment her own flesh and blood? And her offer to let Nymphadora defect to their side – was that genuine? Or part of a game she was playing?"

"We talk all the time about acceptance in sessions, don't we, Andromeda?" said Artemisia, glancing quickly at the clock, as it was almost time to begin. "I believe you need to find a way to accept that your questions will never be answered. The only person who knows why she did what she did is dead."

"She's lucky she's dead." Andromeda subconsciously tugged out a thick strand of her hair. "If it had been me in the Great Hall instead of Molly Weasley, I'd have tortured her first."

"Does it bother you?" asked Artemisia, glancing once more at the clock. Everyone was seated. But she was too curious not to ask. "Does it bother you that Molly Weasley killed your sister to save her daughter, but you were not given the opportunity to do the same?"

"I was home with the baby," Andromeda answered without really answering. "Someone had to be."

The session started. Andromeda did not contribute.

Dorcas Kensington was not present. (Again.)

Nor was Lavender Brown.

That afternoon, during her individual therapy session, she decided to posit the question to her counselor, a Healer named Adelaide Smelthwick. The woman was perhaps forty-five, of average height and build, with skin a shade darker than Kingsley's and long black dreadlocks pulled back into a low ponytail. She wore the same uniform as the Healers at St. Mungo's, where she used to work on the third floor in Potions and Plant Poisoning. That's where she became interested in potions addiction, as she told Andromeda during their first session.

"How does a person accept the unacceptable?" asked Andromeda. They met in her room, with her sitting in the hard-backed chair and the Healer in an easy chair she brought with her from patient to patient, transfigured from a tiny model she kept in her bag.

"The unacceptable meaning...?"

"Before Group Therapy today, Artemisia – Healer Bonham – said I would have to learn to accept that I'll never know what my sister was thinking when she killed my daughter, but how? It's... it's among the negative thoughts that regularly consume me. I'm... I might even say I'm obsessed with knowing. But she's right; I'll never know. How can I accept that I'll never know when I can't live without knowing?"

"I'm glad you asked me." Healer Smelthwick regarded her carefully over tented fingers resting against her chin. "When a person we love dies, we go through a process known as grieving. The last step in the process is acceptance. Before it can be reached, however–"

"I know all about that process." Andromeda curled her feet under her legs and let out a puff of air, annoyed. "My sister read a bloody book on the stages of grief given to her by her son's Ministry Mentor in 1999 and she hasn't bloody shut her mouth about it since. But I don't want to know about grieving. I've accepted that my daughter is dead. I've accepted that she'll never come back, I'll never see her again, or speak to her, or hold her..." Andromeda's breath hitched in her throat. Though she had, technically, accepted this, it still hurt to say it aloud. "But my sister, my cruel fucking sister, she murdered her and I want to know why, what she was thinking. Whether she wanted to hurt me or whether it hurt her to hurt me. When Narcissa was hurting, I..."

Andromeda glared at the still tented fingers of the calm, quiet Healer before her. She hated how the woman could remain so unaffected, dispassionate, patient. She reminded her of Kingsley in that way. He, too, had remarkable control over his emotions, independent of the use of Occlumency.

"What about when Narcissa was hurting?"

"It was years ago. I was at the apothecary in Diagon Alley, before Severus Snape bought it. I was shopping for – well, it doesn't matter what I was shopping for." (She'd been shopping for more Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep, as she'd come to rely heavily on both after the war.) "She was there too, and a young woman was speaking with her about an affair she – the younger woman – had with my sister's dead husband. I'm a Legilimens, all three of us are... or, were... and the ability is heightened when it comes to reading ones close relatives. I could feel her pain before I even knew she was present. It cut me, like a knife to my heart, to be perfectly clichéd. It literally hurt. And when I came upon them, overheard what the woman was saying, felt how badly it hurt my sister... We hadn't spoken in twenty-five years, but I came to her defense because I couldn't let her stand there, taking that, hurting that way. She saw it as a selfless act, coming to her defense, apparating her away, but it was selfish. I did it to spare myself her pain."

"Did you? Did you only to it to spare yourself her pain? Surely you could have simply apparated yourself away, and..."

"Fine!" Andromeda snapped, making eye contact with the Healer. "Fine, very well, I'll admit it, I threatened the woman and got Cissy out of there because I felt for her, too. I hated knowing she felt that way, I hated that someone was hurting her, I hated that... I hated that this bitch was causing her pain because as long as we'd been estranged, as terrible as things were between us, she's still my bloody sister! And I would've have... for Bella, I... I..."

"If you'd had the opportunity to save Bellatrix from Molly Weasley, would you?"

"Not after she killed my Dora."

"Before?"

"Before?" Andromeda pondered this, tugging out a strand of graying-black hair as she did so, which she then twirled around her index finger. "I wouldn't have been able to stand by and watch someone torture her, no. Kill her to save another, perhaps. But not torture her. And I couldn't stand it happening to Cissy either."

"Do you think Narcissa would have intervened if someone was hurting you?"

"Not necessarily, but not because she wouldn't hurt. She's more spineless than Bella or I. She would have been too afraid to intervene. But she would have suffered with my suffering. She had to watch Bella be tortured by You-Know-Who once and she said it nearly killed her. She vomited after. She took it worse than our sister did."

"And you want to know why Bellatrix wasn't similarly affected when she committed an act she knew would cause you pain?"

"Or was she? If I had been there, could she have...? How far gone was she? How much hatred did she have for me? And if she still loved me, even a little, how could she do it at all?"

"You think she killed your daughter because she hated you? Or you think she did it in spite of still loving you?"

"I don't know. But Narcissa – Narcissa says if she'd been there, she'd have stopped Bella. She said she wouldn't have let our sister take my child away, and that was before we reconciled. She said she can't imagine anything worse than losing a child. She spent a year – no, two, more like – terrified of losing Draco. That was what made her defect. She lied straight to You-Know-Who's face, right in front of our sister, even though Bella could have – _should_ have – seen straight through her. She says she would have put herself between Bella and Nymphadora if it had come to that, and she doesn't think Bella would have hurt her. Not seriously."

"Narcissa is a mother. Bellatrix was not." Healer Smelthwick leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, regarding Andromeda carefully. "Narcissa would be able to imagine how much it would hurt you to lose your child. Could Bellatrix?"

"I don't know what she could imagine. She was a sadist. She was mad. She was his most devoted follower."

"You said Narcissa worried about losing her son. Did Bellatrix worry about her sister losing her son?"

"I... I don't know. I think, if Bellatrix had a son, she would be proud to see him serve her master. Cissy said as much, she said Bella told her so."

"Perhaps your older sister lacked empathy and maternal instinct, the two things that would have emotionally prevented her from taking your daughter from you."

"They've started the process of phasing out my potions this week," Andromeda said, abruptly changing the subject. "By week twelve, I am to be completely able to exist without a dependency to anything – healing potions, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex, self-harm, suicidal tendencies... all the things they talk about in Group Therapy."

"Are you dependent upon all of those things? I wasn't aware that you smoked cigarettes or self-harmed. And we've never discussed sex in any degree of detail."

"I don't want to discuss sex," snapped Andromeda, regretting having brought it up. "And I do not currently smoke cigarettes, nor do I self-harm, and I am not suicidal. I was simply listing all the things they tell us we'll be able to live without when our departure time comes."

"What is your relationship with sex, since you brought it up?" Healer Smeltwick flicked her wand. A clipboard flew from her bag and flipped to a blank page. A second flick sent a quill to hover over the parchment. "Sex and intimacy are closely related, generally, but sometimes when they aren't we learn even more about a person's psyche."

"I have no relationship with sex."

The Healer cocked an eyebrow. "You're abstinent?"

"I... I have a boyfriend."

"You have sex with him?"

"Of course. Though not while he's visiting - his choice, not mine."

"There are rules about that, Mrs. Tonks." Healer Smelthwick's tone hardened slightly. "Relations at this facility are not permitted, and with most patients visitation must happen in one of the designated common areas; you are permitted privacy only because of the nature of Minister Shacklebolt's position-"

"Stop, fuck, I know!" Andromeda cut her off, irritated by being lectured. "To answer your original question, yes, when we are not here, we have sex. Is that somehow important?"

"You are exclusively with each other?"

"To my knowledge, he's not fucking other witches." Andromeda was being purposely crass, not at all happy with the topic of this therapy session.

"But you have had sex with other men since you started seeing him, haven't you?" Healer Smeltwick shot her a look that told her the question was rhetorical. "I know, of course, about you and our nurse, but there is a rumor that you also spent time in the company of a former Death Eater named Thorfinn Rowle."

Andromeda blanched. This was not the first time Healer Smelthwick had attempted to bring up sex in the context of intimacy and she had asked about whether Andromeda had ever prostituted herself but in the past Andromeda had always managed to deflect. And she was never directly asked whether she'd cheated on Kingsley with Rowle.

"From whom did you hear that?"

"It's a small world, Mrs. Tonks. Was that an emotional affair, or–"

"It was no more emotional than the ten minutes I spent with your nurse," Andromeda answered coldly. "He sold Herb, I needed it, he wanted galleons, I didn't have enough, so I let him have me in exchange for the fix I needed. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Do you love your... boyfriend?"

"Why does it matter?" Andromeda toyed with the hem of her facility-issued pajama top to stave off the urge to yank out her hair by the fistful, an urge that became more powerful and harder to fight with each day of sobriety. The agitation filled her body from head to toe, making her skin crawl; even her teeth were set on edge. She clenched her free fist, placing it on the arm of the chair. "I date the bloody Minister for Magic but fucked another man for galleons behind his back, is that what you wanted me to tell you?"

"No." Healer Smelthwick did not seem at all put off by the sudden, aggressive shift in Andromeda's demeanor, though a lesser witch might have felt afraid to sit under the fiery glare of a woman who so closely resembled Bellatrix Lestrange. "Generally, do you have a healthy relationship with sex, Mrs. Tonks?"

"Generally?" Andromeda laughed. "I haven't had a disease of a sexual nature since I was sixteen, so if that's what you mean by 'healthy,' yes, I'm healthy. Thank you for asking. May we move on?"

"With whom were you having sex at sixteen?"

"With none of your bloody business." Andromeda stood, making the chair scrape back against the tiled floor. She was too tense to remain sitting. She paced back and forth instead, wishing she had her wand. She was in the mood to make a few things shatter around the room... mostly so that she wouldn't be the one exploding.

"Why does this topic of conversation bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"Clearly, it does."

"I'm sorry!" Andromeda grabbed the back of the chair, lifted it, and slammed it back down on its four legs. "I loved my husband with all my heart, but I had one affair, is that what you need to know? I had an affair because it was exciting, because our lives were dull and difficult and being desired by another man was fun, planning covert holidays and quick shag sessions was fun, not getting caught was fun. Eventually, I did get caught. I got caught, his wife told my husband, Ted left me for awhile – he took our daughter away – and it took me a long time to earn back his trust. I never had another affair."

"You never cheated again?"

"I cheated more times than I can count," she replied, the bitterness dripping from her voice. "But I never had another affair."

"What's the difference?"

"An affair is emotional, at least to a small degree - it involves kissing and intercourse and being held, full nights and flirtation and foreplay, caring at least a little about the person with whom you're doing it. Sex doesn't have to be emotional. Not that I shagged..." She heaved a deep sigh and tossed her hair, giving the impression of arrogance, though the Healer understood she was merely trying to hide her vulnerability. "Let's just say, I find that most men are willing to trade goods for good jobs." She made an obscene gesture indicating she was referring to fellatio. "Thus I rarely needed to resort to offering more. And I only ever did what I had to in order to help my family."

"And in order to get high."

"That was different. That came later. I only drank when I was married. Gin, mostly. Firewhisky on occasion. Wine with dinner. Nothing else. From the time I left Hogwarts until about a year ago, I _only_ drank, and even that I gave up for a long, long time."

"But you started again."

"Yes, I resumed drinking after my husband and daughter were murdered and I had to return to work to raise my grandson alone. I was... stressed."

"Was that all it was?"

"Meaning?"

"Did you redevelop your alcohol problem before or after you started dating again?"

Andromeda bristled at this. "The two are unrelated."

"Was your boyfriend the first after your husband's death?"

Andromeda considered lying, but ultimately decided to do so was pointless.

"No. The first was a man named Richard. Or... Robert. I don't recall. I'd tell you his last name, but I didn't ask for it. I was dating a man named Barnaby at the time but I was unable to bring myself to be fully physically intimate with him so I got pissed in a bar and went home with a stranger." Andromeda stopped pacing to stare down at the Healer. "Is this the sort of information you're seeking? You think I must have some inner demons or past pain that prompts me to drink and use drugs, and perhaps that's somehow related to sex, or is the reason I've used sex to get what I need? Do you think there's a reason I'm willing to suck men off for money, a reason I had an affair despite loving my husband, a reason I was unable to sleep with the sweet man I was dating but able to go home with a man I'd never met before, a reason I could go directly from the bed of a vile pig like Rowle to that of the bloody Minister for Magic, a man who treats me far better than I could ever deserve?" She choked back a sob and turned toward the window, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She refused to cry. She'd already cried enough while locked up in this bloody place and had no desire to do it in front of this Healer.

" _Is_ there a reason?"

"Yes." Andromeda glanced at the Healer over her shoulder. "I am human rubbish. I have little sense of self-worth because I do not deserve a high opinion of myself, considering all I've done, the way I've treated those I love. Charms aside, I did not excel as a student. I was a rotten daughter and a worse sister. I wasn't a good enough wife and I struggled as a mother. I'm a terrible girlfriend, and six weeks ago, my loving, innocent grandson found me passed out on the floor with a needle in my arm – he had to Floo for help. He's five years old and he had to _Floo for help_ because he thought I might be dead! Don't you think I'm ashamed of how I've acted? Don't you think I _hate_ that I had to turn down Kingsley's proposal so I wouldn't ruin his career? Don't you think it _sickens_ me to know that my nephew had to _pay_ to keep my whoring out of the Prophet? Don't you think it was _humiliating_ for me to return to Group Therapy knowing everyone _knew_ what I'd done with that nurse? Don't you think I want to _kill_ myself for _every_ time I've ever _knelt down_ in front of someone I _loathe_ because I felt there was no other option, even though I know if I were a better woman, I'd _find_ a bloody better option? So you want to know if I have a healthy relationship with sex?"

Healer Smelthwick nodded slowly, pensively. Her quill continued to scratch along the parchment at rapid speed. Aside from that, the room was silent.

"No, Healer. If I had to be perfectly honest with both you and myself, I'd have to say my _relationship_ with sex is anything but healthy."

"I've seen you every other weekday for six weeks, Andromeda, and this is the first time I feel you've genuinely opened up to me." Healer Smeltwick stood, stretched, and wriggled her wand, making the clipboard and quill return to her bag. "I'm afraid I have another session now, but I'm proud of you for your honesty today. Let's try for this same level of candor on Monday, if possible."

"No, thank you." Andromeda flung herself onto her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Beating addiction isn't only about stopping usage of the substance to which you are addicted." The Healer retransfigured her armchair into a miniature version, which she dropped in her bag. "You have a much greater chance for success if we can pinpoint the reason – or reasons – you have developed this dependency and work through them. Accepting that you'll never know what your sister was thinking in that moment is most assuredly part of it, but your predilection for addiction did not start with the death of your daughter. You carry around a strong sense of self-loathing that I can't help feeling is undeserved. Let's work on combating that, shall we?"

"I don't care."

"See you on Monday."

Andromeda held her breath until the door clicked closed.

She was halfway through her twelve-week program, but far from healed.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Each chapter gets longer than the last! Not on purpose, I just can't stop. Thank you so so so so much to those who are following this fic! I know it's heavy and not the most fun and there aren't lovely lemons to pull it along (though there IS one in a later chapter that I hope you'll like!) but the fact that readers are responding and seem interested in following her journey through healing is hugely appreciated. Thank you in particular to reviews of Chapter 5: **somethingnew2016, emrldapplejuice, FrancineHibiscus, Banglabou,** and **sassanech,** and also to **PopularCats** who PM'd to tell me I'd made a mistake (fixed now!).

Note that the name Bonham (Healer Artemisia) comes from the founder of St. Mungo's, Mungo Bonham, and not from my favorite actress (HBC) though I chose it because the connection makes me happy. Also, her first name comes from that of my favorite painter, Artemisia Gentileschi.

 **-AL**


	7. Part One: Week 7

**A/N:**

I wanted something a little lighter to ring in the New Year, so I put a mini-lemon and some fluffier conversation at either end of this one. Back to super-angst and drama and therapy sessions in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

And thanks to **emrldapplejuice, PopularCats,** and **somethingnew2016** for reviewing Chapter Six!

Happy New Year.

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **END OF WEEK 7**

Most of the time, when she closed her eyes and was surrounded by quiet, she was assaulted by terrible memories or terrifying thoughts. She found it increasingly difficult to mentally relive happy moments or daydream about the future. Every day was a struggle, every night an internal war, and every moment alone let her wallow, while moments spent in therapy were dedicated to ripping open old wounds.

Today, all she wanted to think about was Kingsley.

In particular, she wanted to think about the first time they were together, in that storeroom at St. Mungo's. They'd been walking down the hall. She'd brushed up against him quite accidentally. He'd done the same to her, clearly less accidentally. Then she'd boldly brushed against him, making her interest obvious, and he'd stopped walking to look into her eyes, as if trying to read her, but unlike her, he was no Legilimens.

She'd smiled slyly, having seen a flash of his fantasy, then grabbed his wrist and guided him down another hall, an empty hall. She tapped twice on the knob of the storeroom door, unlocking it while glancing from left to right to ensure they were still alone, then she pulled him inside. It was a small room, full of dusty odds and ends and old furniture covered in white sheets. A small, round window nearly to the ceiling let in a dim stream of light, obscured by the grime; no house-elf had been in here to clean in some time. He glanced around, registering his surroundings, as she closed and locked the door.

Upon casting a silencing charm, she said, "No one ever uses this room."

And then his lips were on hers.

Her hand went to his cheek, his went to her hip. Her other arm encircled his shoulders while his took hold of her waist. Her back hit the wall, their tongues connected, and she wondered whether his heart was beating as hard or as fast as hers.

As his hand moved her to breast and his lips to her ear, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She was about to have sex with the Minister for Magic. The bloody _Minister_ for _Magic_! She could only imagine what her parents would have said, were they still alive, should they learn about this. Their disowned daughter, not good enough for them, mother of a mixed-blood child, catching the attention of the handsome, popular, _powerful_ pureblood Minister for Magic – she couldn't wait to tell Narcissa.

Oh, but what of Barnaby? That sweet man, the only one she'd seriously seen since the death of her husband, could she cheat on him?

Andromeda's hand squeezed the strong bicep of the Minister, who thrust against her, pinning her against the wall in the dusky storeroom, and though she was sure she'd regret it later, _Yes_ , she decided. She _could_ cheat on Barnaby.

She scratched her short nails against the back of his neck as he kissed her, confused, but not unhappily so.

"What... I... why?"

"I've been attracted to you for over a year." He breathed his answer into her ear, his voice deep and low and dripping with want. "When you barged into my office, when we spoke at your nephew's orphan gala, when we attended Potter's engagement party..."

That last one had only been a month before. Barnaby was supposed to go with her but his grandson was sick, so she'd taken Teddy alone, then spent half the evening chatting with Kingsley as they were the only two adults there without a significant other.

"You've been attracted to me for over a year?" she asked, hardly able to believe it. How had he kept this attraction from her? Though she hadn't intentionally used Legilimency on him, she was surprised not to have seen or felt a hint of this.

"I'm an Occlumens," he said, answering the question she hadn't asked aloud. He did the same with what would have been her next question. "Not a Legilimens, but I _am_ intuitive."

"But why me? You're..." She ran her hands up and down his upper arms, feeling his muscles through the satiny material of his burgundy wizard's robe. "You're _you_. You could have much better than... me."

"You're serious?" He nuzzled under her hair to kiss her neck. "I wanted nothing more than to take you home last month, to divest you of that silver gown, to continue our dinner conversation long into the evening..."

She felt her cheeks go both hot with embarrassment and pink with pleasure. "You wanted to strip me starkers and _talk_ to me? _Why_?"

"You are as fascinating as you are beautiful." His hand returned to her breast, squeezing it lightly, as his lips descended again upon her slender neck. He mumbled his next words against her skin. "Though we should not do this here."

"You're right, we shouldn't." Despite this, she slipped her hands up his chest and around to the back of his neck, enjoying the way he sucked on the side of her neck. "But we've already come this far..." She brushed against his growing erection with her thigh. "And my uniform unzips in the back."

He groaned in response, unzipped her dress, and let it pool on the floor. This left her in a plain powder blue bra and white silk slip – which she very nearly transfigured into something more sensual, but when he kissed the top of her breast above the fabric and called her "perfection" she forgot the necessary spell.

"I'm sorry they're small," she blurted as his lips moved from one to the other. He chuckled and the warmth from his breath danced across her chest. "My bra makes them look bigger than they are. It's a bit like false advertising, I confess."

"Perfection," he reiterated.

She guided him into another searing kiss, and before she could process how quickly they were moving, she'd unfastened his wizard's robe and was running her hand up and down his length while he fucked her with his fingers. She was alternately moaning and sighing, while he was groaning and gasping.

"Oh, Minister, yes..." she whispered.

"Kingsley," he corrected her. "I am not the minister here."

"Kingsley. Please. Don't stop."

"Andromeda..." Another kiss. "I need you."

With her slip gathered around her waist and her knickers joining her uniform dress on the floor, he slid into her, thrusting and pumping. She kept her arms wrapped securely around his neck and shoulders, while her left leg wrapped around his waist.

A noise in the hall reminded them of their location, which should have struck fear into her heart but instead made it race with excitement; it had been a long bloody time since she last had sex while risking getting caught.

They snogged as they did it and when he was spent, he lowered her until her feet were both back on the floor, but did not release her from his embrace. Rather, he kissed her lips and forehead and held her, and told her he was sorry for his lack of self-control.

"You did nothing I didn't want," she answered, hoping he wasn't about to tell her he regretted this.

"But not this way," he said. "Might we start again? Would you like to have dinner with me on Tuesday?"

"Not Tuesday," she answered tensely. "That's the fourteenth."

"Ah, yes. Valentine's Day. You have plans with your... beau?" He sounded disappointed and even... hurt... which almost made her want to giggle at the absurdity. But she didn't.

"I won't be with him that night either. It's Nymphadora's birthday. I always spend it with Teddy, just the two of us, since... you know."

"Of course. I'm sorry." He pressed his lips to her temple, cheek, and the corner of her lips, which felt somehow more intimate than fucking. She relaxed against his chest wishing she could just apparate them from the hospital to her home, to invite him into her bed and beg him to keep holding her until the painful emptiness and self-loathing that usually followed spontaneous sex had gone away.

"Tomorrow, then?"

"You want to have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"Please. Unless..." Now he was the one with a vague twinge of vulnerability in his voice. "Unless you are not interested."

"I'm interested!"

"But you do have a... partner? Someone you see?"

"I do. Do you?"

"Not exclusively." He kissed her again, this time a tender peck on the lips, then pressed his body against hers, keeping her pinned to the wall, still keeping her in a tight hug. This was not typically a position she would enjoy finding herself in, but for some reason, with him, it felt comforting rather than intimidating. "I want more than casual sex with you, Andromeda."

"With me?"

 _"Andromeda? Andromeda! Are you awake, Andromeda?"_

The voice that spoke her name was not Kingsley's, nor was it that of a nurse or Mediwitch. Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut tighter, desperate to stay in the memory, unwilling to face the woman who'd just entered her hospital room.

"Andromeda, I know you're awake, I can sense that you're trying to pretend otherwise. Look at me."

Andromeda opened first one eye, then the other, then narrowed both to glare at her sister.

"I thought I wasn't currently being permitted visitors."

"At the rehabilitation facility, you're not currently being permitted visitors. This is St. Mungo's."

Andromeda sat up, positioning the pillows behind her back, and leaned forward to hide her face behind her hair. "Does Kingsley know? That I'm here?"

"I don't believe so. He's still abroad on Ministry business. They notified me as next of kin. I've told no one."

"Not even Severus?"

"Almost no one." Narcissa settled herself on the end of the bed, facing Andromeda, who flinched away from her attempted touch. "What happened, love? I thought you were improving."

"It wasn't." Andromeda leaned forward even more, completely concealing her face from her sister behind a thick dark curtain of frazzled graying black hair.

"Wasn't what?"

"A suicide attempt."

"The Mediwitch said you have cuts all over your –"

"I know. But it wasn't. I didn't want to die. I wanted... I wanted something else."

"Meda." Narcissa reached again for her older sister's hand. This time Andromeda let her take it. She turned it over and tapped her wand to it, causing the bandages over her palm, wrist, and arm to fall away. "They're superficial. Erratic. Not at all purposeful. You were angry, upset." Narcissa ran her gold-painted index fingernail along one long cut that was hardly more than a scratch. "I believe that you were not suicidal. Had you been trying to kill yourself, you'd have done a better job of it."

"Right."

"Then why break the mirror?"

"Why do you think?" Andromeda pulled back her wild hair and stared intently at Narcissa, opening her mind for Cissy's perusal.

"You see her. Oh, Meda."

"Save your pity, you blonde bloody bubble brain." Andromeda let the hair shield her face again. Narcissa got up from the bed and went to the small table by the window, rummaging around in the top drawer until she found a hairbrush. She moved back to the bed, but the top this time, and nudged her sister down until she was able to sit behind her against the pillows. Andromeda rewrapped the bandages while Narcissa got comfortable.

"Let me brush it. It's only wild like this because it's so dry; you haven't been properly conditioning."

"I have limited hair care products in that awful facility," said Andromeda bitterly, but she allowed Narcissa to start working the brush through her tangled, frazzled curls. "And limited energy. And limited motivation."

"For what it's worth, I knew Bella better than anyone, save, perhaps, for the Dark Lord, and I don't think you look anything like her."

"I see her every time I see my own reflection. I see her and all I can picture is her lifting her wand, ending the life of my little girl..." Andromeda's voice cracked and she tried to duck her head again but Narcissa took hold of a fistful of hair, pulling it back to keep her facing forward. She removed her wand from the pocket on the sleeve of her witch's robe and used it as a Muggle would a straightener, brushing the curls away.

"I understand."

"You couldn't possibly. I see her _everywhere_ ," said Andromeda, choking back a sob. She'd never been the crying type, but lately it seemed she was shedding more than her fair share of tears. "She died at forty-seven. No, forty-six. Shortly before her forty-seventh. I'm fifty now. I'm fifty, Narcissa. She'll never see fifty. For the last four years, I've been older than she'll ever be."

"I know."

"And my daughter won't see thirty. She would have been thirty this year, Cissy. She would have been _thirty_ on Valentine's Day, but she... she'll never be more than twenty-five, and I'll continue aging, and Teddy will continue aging, and my Nymphadora..."

"Meda..."

"You don't see the witches and wizards who executed your Lucius every time you walk by a reflective surface, in mirrors and windows and lakes. But I see her face in the mirror, always, and it won't go away." A hot, fat tear escaped from the corner of her eye, traveling down her cheek and landing between her lips. She pursed them together, tasting the saltiness, but willed no more to fall. "In every window, in every puddle, in every..."

"You're seeing what isn't there." Narcissa continued to brush and straighten until her sister's hair looked like hers dyed dark rather than like that of Bellatrix. "You don't resemble her as much as you think you do."

"Then why did Thorfinn Rowle like to pretend he was shagging her when he was using me? Why did that male nurse say if he darkened the room, I'd easily pass for her? Why did Harry bloody Potter leap up and try to hex me in my own home when he first saw me?"

"Harry Potter leapt–?"

"Your husband's former mistress mistook me for her, remember? And when the Prophet printed that picture of Teddy against my wishes, they reported that he's fortunate to resemble his mother and not his grandmother, calling me 'Bellatrix Lestrange in appearance, minus the mad eyes and curved hips.' They called our resebmlance 'uncanny.' We have the same complexion, eye color, hair color, nose shape, height, build..."

"You don't have the exact same build. You said yourself you lack her hips, and for what it's worth, your breasts are smaller than hers were."

"Thanks, Cissy, that helps." Andromeda rolled her eyes. Narcissa hugged her from behind, but stopped when she felt her sister tense further. She then gathered Andromeda's hair into a low ponytail and ran the tip of her wand across it, whispering a severing spell of her husband's invention, "Sectumsemptra."

"What was that?" asked Andromeda, suddenly feeling an unfamiliar breeze on the back of her neck.

"Don't be angry," Narcissa answered. She thrust forward her hand with the cut off ponytail clutched in her palm. "I've never seen you with short, straight hair. It's lovely from the back. Let's style the front."

"My... my hair?" Andromeda took it in her hands, unsure of how to feel. She did not react when Narcissa Vanished it except to bring her hands up to her ends, marveling at how free it felt to have her hair end before reaching her shoulders. "I was... that's... I tried to chop it off, and I... I cut my palm... the glass was sharp, but not sharp enough to... and I... Out of frustration, I turned on myself, and... I wasn't trying to kill myself, or even hurt myself... I... I was crying, and... and I wanted to make her go away, I wanted to stop seeing her, and... and I..."

"I understand." Narcissa used her wand and the brush to even out the cut. "It's the same reason I tried to burn off my Dark Mark. I couldn't live seeing it every day, knowing what it represented, seeing the sick things associated with it... your hair is for you what that Mark was for me. But you must know, Kingsley thinks you're beautiful and I think you're beautiful and Teddy thinks you're beautiful - and _not one of us_ looks at you and sees Bella."

"Teddy never knew Bella."

"But I did. And Kingsley did. And Draco and Severus and Harry Potter and that dowdy, overbearing little Weasley witch who killed her, and none of us –"

"Her name is Molly and she isn't dowdy."

"That plump, obnoxious little Weasley witch who–"

"Cissy!" Andromeda couldn't fight a smirk.

"I know, I'm awful, but I never liked her. Do you?"

"She's... alright. She has the best of intentions, but she can be a real bitch. She's pureblood but lacks our good breeding and sunny disposition."

Both sisters snickered.

"I don't want to talk about myself and my problems anymore, Cissy," whined Andromeda. This made her sound more like Bella, but Cissy would never say this aloud. "Tell me about your life, your problems."

Narcissa sighed, returned the brush to the drawer and her wand to her pocket, and settled back on the end of the bed opposite Andromeda.

"Well. I haven't spoken to Severus in two days except to send him a Patronus about you and that I was coming here."

"What?" Now Andromeda was the one clutching her sister's hand. "I'm so sorry! What happened?"

"The bloody dog, that's what happened. He takes her everywhere and last week she came home with fleas. Fleas! I want her outside in the doghouse until they're cleared up, but he says she's a member of the family and family members don't sleep outside. I informed him that if his dog gives _me_ fleas, _he's_ going to be the one sleeping outside!"

"Sounds reasonable."

"He does not agree. After the loudest row we've ever had, I took Hope and Teddy and stormed off to Malfoy Manor. I told Severus to send me a Patronus when he and Duchess are through sharing pinprick-sized parasites, provided they haven't infested our entire bloody home in the interim."

"Your first big fight, only four years in. What a lovely milestone."

"We're not quite four years in, we've been married less than three, and stop laughing!" Narcissa swatted at her sister, who dodge the hit. "I was devastated. I _am_ devastated! I cried myself to sleep. Lucius and I _never_ fought like that, yelling at each other and refusing to back down."

"He'd back down _without_ a fight?" Andromeda cocked an eyebrow, unable to picture Lucius Malfoy as the docile pushover type.

"No! He... he never... We didn't fight because he... He..." Narcissa frowned. "I can only think of one time that I disagreed with him after he made a decision. He was in charge, you see, thus there was no reason to argue, except when he wanted Draco to attend Durmstrang. I said no, it was too far away and Durmstrang students don't return home for Easter holiday, only Christmas and summers. He said he'd already made his decision and I went to Draco's room and woke him from a sound sleep and sobbed and Lucius changed his mind."

"So you're saying the reason you and Lucius never had a real row was because he'd make the decisions and – with that one exception – not have to take your opinions into consideration because he was in charge, whereas you and Severus are able to disagree because... you're on equal footing?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way. All I could think was that he won't love me anymore if I refuse to give in, but I cannot live with that dog scratching herself all the bloody time, with little... little bugs hopping from her to me and to the children."

"When you leave here, Cissy, go speak with him. Are the fleas being treated?"

"Yes. And he agreed to keep the dog out of our bedroom for the time being, but..."

"How long until the treatment will be complete?"

"He says anywhere from a couple of days to a week!" Narcissa pouted out her red-painted lips; now it was her turn to whine. "I hate it when he's sullen and stubborn and argumentative, it annoys me, and so I accused him of loving the dog more than he loves our daughter, even though I know that's not true."

"Go, talk to him. Cissy, please." Andromeda pointed toward the door. "Go on! I'll be alright. I'm going to close my eyes and think about Kingsley and hope he isn't disappointed in me, should he hear about this, and you go fix your marriage to the sullen, stubborn, dog-obsessed potions-master."

Narcissa stood beside the bed and stretched, but did not yet head toward the door.

"Teddy doesn't like it at Malfoy Manor. He wants to go home."

"He prefers your house?"

"He prefers yours." Narcissa combed her fingers through the front of Andromeda's straight, shorter hair, curling it under on the ends. "He asks every day when he'll be allowed to go home to Nana, why he can't visit you."

"He's better off without–"

"You're his mother, Andromeda."

"No." Though the loss of so much of her hair was a relief, a weight lifted, she couldn't help wishing she could have it back to obscure her face from her sister's discerning glare. "No, I'm his grandmother."

"You are the only mother he knows. He doesn't remember Nymphadora. Only you. You've been there since the moment he was born, you're the one who's fed him and bathed him and put him to bed, you're the one who taught him the alphabet and how to put on his socks, and the proper way to hold a fork. You read him stories, you care for him when he's sick, and you love him as much as any mother would. You are as much his mother as I am Hope and Draco's."

Andromeda nodded. She knew this was true, but it hurt to hear it. She didn't want to be Teddy's mother. She was Nymphadora's mother. She wanted to be Teddy's grandmother and let Dora be his mummy, the way it was supposed to be.

But Bellatrix had stolen that from all of them.

"You need to let go of this hatred for her." Narcissa kissed Andromeda's forehead, cradling her face between cold palms. "She can't feel it. Only you can. It hurts you, not her."

"It hurts me..." Andromeda conceded. "And Teddy."

"I'm sorry I didn't see you when you turned fifty. I'd so been looking forward to taking you to dinner and rubbing it in that you're an entire decade older than I am now."

"That's now how decades work, Narcissa. We'll always be twenty-two months apart in age."

"Yes, but I'm still a sprightly forty-something, whereas you're an elderly witch over fifty. Before I go, should I Glamour that gray out of your roots?"

"Go fuck yourself. Or, better yet, go fuck Severus. The best thing about having a nasty row with your husband is angry sex, followed by make-up sex, followed by 'let's promise to never fight like this again even though we know we will' sex."

"Three times in one night?" Narcissa scoffed, flipping her long blonde hair, today down in soft curls. "I said I'm forty-something, not twenty-something."

"You can space it out over a couple of days if you prefer, but do so knowing that I'm in my fifties and could manage three times in one night."

"I believe you once called me a slag for that."

"No, I called you a slag for having done it four times in one night." Andromeda's eyes twinkled. There was nothing she loved quite the same way she loved teasing or tormenting her sister. "Three times is a special occasion. Four times is simply excessive. You trollop."

"I want you to get better and come home. I miss having tea and gossiping and being nasty to each other while the children are sleeping."

"I should be home soon. I assume they'll be casting me out of the program now that I've broken the rules for a second time."

"They might have cast you out, but I have a vault full of gold – and I do mean _full_ of gold – and the donation I made to the facility this morning should ensure they accept you back by tomorrow afternoon." Narcissa smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the bodice of her expensive mahogany witch's robe. "You're welcome."

"I hate you."

"Enjoy your next thirty-seven days." Smiling borderline-triumphantly, Narcissa tugged the end of her sister's shorter, straighter hair. "I love you, you moody, Muggle-loving, Minister-fucking mess."

Andromeda rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide the teensiest smile.

"I love you too... a little. You pathetically vapid flea-infested ball of fluff."

They hugged goodbye.

Andromeda drifted off to sleep shortly after her sister's departure. Instead of her usual nightmares, her mind played for her a memory – the memory of that first time with Kingsley, the one she'd been fantasizing about before Cissy's arrival, and she awoke hours later feeling well-rested, but missing him.

And Teddy.

And Narcissa.

She missed her home, her job, her life outside St. Mungo's and away from the facility.

She wanted it back.

Her life wasn't perfect... but it also wasn't Bella's to destroy.

She hoped Kingsley wouldn't find out she'd been sent to St. Mungo's again.

And she hoped Teddy would someday forgive her for not being the mother he deserved.


	8. Part One: Week 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

 **END OF WEEK 8**

"Are you ready to talk about it?" asked Healer Adelaide Smelthwick, staring curiously at Andromeda over tented fingers.

"No." Andromeda glanced around her room, looking anywhere but at the professional but compassionate woman seated across from her, trying to ignore the scratching of that enchanted quill over the parchment. Her eyes settled on the chart at the end of her bed. Though she couldn't see the first page as it was inside its holder, she could see the words in her mind. _Andromeda Tonks: Long-term, addict._

"I like the haircut. It suits you."

"I feel naked."

"You can't lean forward and hide behind your hair. I can understand why the new style would therefore leave you feeling more exposed. If you don't want to talk about today's incident, shall we discuss what happened last week? The incident with the mirror? I am sorry I wasn't here. My daughter had her first child so I took some time off to be with her."

Andromeda's nose tingled and twitched as she couldn't help picturing her own daughter just after birth. Nymphadora's labor and delivery went better than her mother's had, and once Teddy was cleaned up and swaddled and in her arms, she could do nothing but stare at him and kiss the soft hairs on the top of his head and talk about how much his grandfather would have loved him too.

"How lovely for you, being a grandmother. I used to be a grandmother. Then my daughter was murdered and I became a mum again."

"Is that what you'd like to discuss today? Your resentment regarding your changed role?"

"No." Andromeda ran her fingers through her straightened hair, which ended just above her shoulders. She'd learned to straighten it without magic (she had to, since her wand had been confiscated upon arrival) but was still getting used to seeing her new look in the mirror. The one in her bathroom had been repaired since she shattered it. "I'll discuss Kingsley, if that's what you want."

"Is that what _you_ want?" The Healer's expression was one of genuine concern, which annoyed Andromeda to know end. What right did this woman have to be worried about her? None at all, in her opinion.

"It's what you want. I know what you want, don't think that I don't. I've been through this multiple times already. You therapists, you... you Healers of madness, you're all the same. You want me to break down, to cry, to tell you some deep, dark tale of a twisted past, to confess to a history of sexual deviance sparked by some heavily-buried childhood trauma. But it isn't like that. No one's ever raped me, I wasn't molested as a little girl, my father didn't look at me funny and my mother didn't abuse me. Once, I went home with a man who got too rough. He hit me across the face and insulted me when I demanded he not do so again, but that experience hardly left me damaged; I was already damaged. Besides, I was pissed that night. It was a mistake, my mistake, not to be repeated."

"It was a one-time mistake? When was this?"

"When I was seeing Barnaby. He was wonderful, but I was... apprehensive... about becoming too intimate with him, as he was the first after my husband's death. The night I thought I was ready, he had to leave me on a family matter, and I met that man in a bar – Richard, Robert, maybe? – and once I'd fucked him I was fine with Barnaby."

"Why is it you feared intimacy with a man with whom you were in a relationship and happy, but not with a stranger you met in a bar?"

"You think I have a bloody problem with intimacy?" Andromeda's eyes flashed dangerously as she stood from her chair and began pacing, like a panther. She could feel the gaze of the Healer following her as she stalked from wall to wall.

"Do you?"

"No! I don't!" She was angry, growing angrier by the second, and she had no idea why. "Nor do I have a problem with sex. Sex and intimacy aren't the same, though, for what it's worth. A woman can have one without the other. Sex is... sex can be a means to an end, or a reward for doing well, or a bargaining chip. Sex is... sex itself is meaningless. It's never meant anything, not alone. It only means something if you want it to, if you're using it as an expression of, of love, or... or lust, even. It... it only..."

"Does it mean something with Minister Shacklebolt?"

"I love him." It hurt to say these words aloud after the awful words she'd said to him earlier. "I love being with him."

"So with him, sex has meaning."

"Didn't I say I didn't want to talk about him?"

"Yes, but then you said you'd discuss him if that's what I want. And it is. I want to talk about what happened between you today, before you had him thrown out."

"I just... I thought he was different. Unlike other men. Better. Special. But he's not. He's exactly like all the rest. Men. They only want one thing, from the time they're teenagers until the day they die, all they want us women for is a quick hard fuck and he's no different."

"You cannot _possibly_ believe that!" interrupted Healer Smelthwick in a no-nonsense tone. "He is an attractive, accomplished man, a kind and fair man, a popular and intelligent man. If he were only seeking sex, he could get it elsewhere, from a woman with less – forgive me for saying so – but less emotional baggage than you, a woman who would treat him as he should be treated."

"You love him so bloody much, _you_ date him."

"I'm married."

"Good for you."

"You're missing the point, Mrs. Tonks."

"I've asked that you call me Andromeda."

"You're missing the point, Andromeda." Smelthwick sighed, reminding her patient of a parent losing her patience. "If all he needed – or wanted – was 'a quick, hard fuck' he could look elsewhere, easily, and save himself both headache and heartache. Clearly, he loves _you._ He's fought for you when you're unwilling to fight for yourself. He's been visiting your grandson while you're recovering here. He checks on you, he was here checking on you even when you refused to see him, and he's paying for your stay - which, not that we're supposed to discuss cost during sessions, is not inexpensive. After all he's been through with you, how can you possibly say he only wants you for sex, and nothing more?"

"They all do."

"They, _who_? Who taught you to believe that men only want 'one thing' from women and that's what it is? Who raised you to believe – or manipulated you into believing – that sex was all you had to offer? Artemisia told me what you said to Dorcas Kensington about what women are good at and good for. Where does that come from?"

"You're doing it again! You want me to reveal some horrible childhood sex trauma! I'm sorry, but one just doesn't exist! Not for me!"

"I want you to answer the question."

"Where does it come from?" Andromeda threw up her hands and looked to the ceiling, as if an answer could be found falling down from above. "I'll tell you, if you're so desperate to know. It comes from generation after generation of pureblood nonsense, of a patriarchal society that tells its sons that the measure of a man is his wealth, his intellect, his social stature, but all that matters for a daughter is to be quiet and clean and to hold onto her virginity like it's the only Bezoar in a poison potion factory where you need to drink your way out, to keep it protected at all costs until your parents give it away to a man of their choosing, regardless of what you want and even though you'd give anything to finish school and play Quidditch and wear trousers and dance with a boy at a Yule Ball like all those lucky little Mudblood bitches get to do!" Andromeda gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at the slur that had slipped out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry to have said that! I'm so sorry, Healer Smelthwick. I didn't... I don't... that word... I... please, don't think I'm... My husband was Muggleborn, and my daughter – I'd never use that word, not intentionally..."

"Won't you please retake your seat, Andromeda?" asked the Healer gently, gesturing toward the chair. As if in a daze, Andromeda complied. She covered her face in her hands, unable to face the woman after having said what she did. She could only imagine how disgusted Ted and Nymphadora would be if they could hear her. Even Cissy didn't say "Mudblood" anymore.

Nearly four full minutes passed, during which Andromeda quietly hated herself and Healer Smelthwick quietly observed her. Finally, the Healer ended the silence.

"You're still angry with your parents."

"I had dreams." Her hands fell to her lap, her nose twitched, and she waffled between wanting to dissolve into sobs and wanting to break another mirror. "They were silly, stupid dreams, but nonetheless, they were mine. I could have been something, something more than a part-time St. Mungo's receptionist and wife and mother. I... I wasn't the best student, but I wasn't stupid! I earned an Outstanding in my Charms O.W.L. That was my best class. My results came by owl with a letter from Madam Marchbanks congratulating me on the highest score in that subject since Fillius Flitwick was a student, and he'd been a record breaker! My mother read the letter, sneered at me as if I'd done something offensive, and tossed it into the fire. She said I shouldn't mention it to the Lestranges – we were due over there for tea that afternoon, as Bella was married to their eldest son and I was betrothed to their second – because she didn't want me to embarrass her. To _embarrass_ her! By having high marks! I said, "But Mother, I love Charms. Charms are what I'm good at!" and she said, "All you need to be good at is obeying your husband and bearing sons.'"

She would never forget her mother's next words, as they still reverberated around in her head on a regular basis, echoing especially loudly after each of the four times Kingsley had proposed to her.

 _"_ _Do_ not _jeopardize this match, Andromeda. If Rabastan Lestrange won't marry you, Merlin only knows who will! As a witch of good breeding, always_ _remember what you must be good at... and, more importantly, what you're good for."_

"That's a terrible thing for a mother to say," said Healer Smelthwick, shaking her head. These old pureblood families were known for being stuck in the dark ages and she'd been working with their descendents for ten years, but to see the effects of such beliefs firsthand still shook her, especially as few families remained that were as staunchly traditional as the Blacks, Malfoys, Shafiqs, and Lestranges.

"Mother had been on me like a hawk since the summer before, because of what happened with my sister."

"What happened with your sister?"

"Her sixth year, my fourth, she became pregnant. Just after Easter holiday. She confessed this to Mother on the first day home for the summer. My parents forced her into having an illegal abortion the very next morning, and not even a week later, though she was still recovering, still _bleeding_ , they dragged all three of us sisters to the Lestranges for tea and scones. There, they suggested cutting short the yearlong courtship in favor of having Bella and Rodolphus married straight away, before Cissy and I had to return to school."

"Did the Lestranges agree to move up the wedding date?"

"They did, quite eagerly as a matter of fact. As far as I'm aware, neither Rodolphus nor his parents ever knew the reason my mother and father wanted to rush along his union to my sister. I suppose they reckoned there was a hurry to create grandchildren, what with war on the horizon, and they were supportive of that."

"And what of your betrothal? You did not get on with the younger Lestrange brother?"

"We never said more than a handful of words to each other, all overly polite and without substance, but I hated the way he looked at me. He was older – twenty when I was fourteen – and he looked at me like a hungry man seated before an incredible meal he was temporarily being denied. It frightened me."

"Did he ever touch you? Or hurt you?"

"Never. He never had the opportunity. The moment I came of age, I ran away with Ted."

"Ted was your first, then?" asked the Healer offhandedly as she Accioed over a glass of gillywater from atop the dresser.

"No. But he thought he was. And I liked to pretend he was. The first time... I always felt the first time didn't count. Bella said sex only counted if you wanted it to, it only mattered if you wanted it to matter."

"So your first time was–"

"I don't want to talk about that." Andromeda stood up again, this time moving to poor herself a glass of water. She kept her back to Healer Smelthwick as she went on, running her fingertip absentmindedly around the ring of the glass. "I've never told anyone, not Ted, not even Narcissa. Only Bella ever... and Bella said..." She drank down half the glass in one gulp before refilling and returning to her seat. "In April of my fourth year, Bella's sixth, we met the Lestrange brothers and their parents for the first time. Not Reinald, the youngest. He went to Durmstrang and didn't come home for Easter holiday. But we met Rabastan, twenty, and Rodolphus, twenty-one. After tea, Bellatrix was furious by the way our parents had acted, playing up her strengths and speaking as if she wasn't in the room, commenting on everything from her personality to her intelligence to her figure, as if trying to sell off a horse. She said she was surprised they hadn't let the Lestranges check her teeth and have her weighed. She told me before bed that night she hated how Mother and Father saw her as nothing but a sentient possession and that she intended to hand her virginity to the first boy who would take it once we returned to Hogwarts. And she did."

"She handed it to the first–"

"Theordore Nott, an eighteen-year-old seventh year and supporter of You-Know-Who. My sister was already one of his followers, ever since our parents took us to hear him speak, though he refused to give her the Dark Mark until she came of age and proved herself. She was in love with him, even then I suspect, but she said he told her he had no interest in children. I don't know when that changed. What I mean is, I don't know when he stopped seeing her as a child and starting _seeing_ her. But I am certain it was after she was married. So without him willing to shag her, she propositioned Theo Nott. She took me up to the Astronomy Tower with them, to act as a lookout. I sat on the stairs and watched in case someone was coming, and I tried to focus on listening for footsteps without listening to them, but I couldn't help being... curious." Andromeda's cheeks went slightly pink and she almost wanted to scold herself for still being embarrassed by this thirty-five years later. "They made the most fascinating sounds. He grunted and growled and groaned, while she gasped and sighed and said things like, 'harder, please,' and 'yes, there'. I was a remarkably sheltered girl, I'd never been kissed or held hands, as you might imagine giving my upbringing, and I was dying to know what he was doing to make her make such... sounds. When they were through, they exited the tower and met me on the stairs. She was smiling in this self-satisfied way, and his brow was damp with sweat. He grinned at me and asked if I were next. I was going to say no, but Bella spoke first."

Andromeda stood again. She walked to the window and pressed her palm against the cool glass. It was pouring outside. She could see her blurred face in the dark reflection. Despite the shorter, straightened hair, she looked like her sister in pane. She could hear Bella's tinkling laugh, clearly see her shaking her head and squeezing Theo's wrist before bumping Andromeda's hip with her own.

 _"_ _You don't want Meda. She's just a child. She wouldn't know what to do. Besides, she's saving herself for Rabastan Lestrange; they're going to be married. She doesn't need the likes of you corrupting her."_

"I told them both, 'I'm not a child!' She always did that, acted like she was an adult and I was a six-year-old, and it drove me mental! She only had two years on me. And in that moment, I wanted nothing less than to save myself for Rabastan Lestrange, so I grabbed Theo Nott's hand and pulled him toward the tower and said, 'Let's do it, right now, I'm ready.' But Bella said absolutely not, took me by the arm, and marched me all the way back down to our common room, after informing Theo he was to say nothing to no one about what they'd done or she'd hex his bollocks off, and also that he was to stay away from me, too, or she'd hex them off double."

"How did he respond to this threat?"

"He told me the next morning, before she came down to breakfast, that he'd be waiting for me in the Astronomy Tower that night if I wanted to do what she'd had. Again, I was set to say no, having slept on it and realizing I'd been acting rashly, but then he added, 'Unless your sister's right, and you're just a child, in which case I'm not interested. I don't shag little girls.' I told him I'd be there."

Andromeda rested her forehead against the dewy windowpane, imagining the rain outside beating down on her head and face and shoulders. It had been raining the night she went to the Astronomy Tower alone to meet Theo, too. She could close her eyes and see it, feel it, that entire evening. She'd frequently thought of trying to Obliviate herself, to remove this one memory, but such magic was dangerous and she didn't think she had the ability to do it without causing irreperable harm. Hell, she couldn't even hack off her own hair without causing herself harm. So she kept the memory in her mind, and, sometimes, punished herself by replaying it.

 _Bellatrix was already in her dormitory for the night, reading. Though it was understood she would not be returning to school for her seventh year, she was studying for N.E.W.T.s with the hope she could convince Dumbledore to let her sit for them a year early. She was highly motivated academically and determined to be the best in every class – she took a homework heavy schedule of Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the since-discontinued Alchemy. It was therefore easy for Andromeda to slip out of the common room at half-past nine and scurry up to the tower unseen._

 _When she arrived, Theo Nott was not alone._

 _"_ _You know Selwyn?" he asked, nodding toward the tall, dark-haired, strong-jawed seventh year boy to his right. She nodded. Phillip Selwyn was rumored to be another of the Dark Lord's young followers. He was a good-looking but ruthless young man who'd been suspected of physically bullying and stealing from younger students for years, but had never been caught or ratted out. "He's our lookout. He'll sit here, same as you did last night, and warn if someone's coming. Alright?"_

 _"_ _You'll know before I will if one of you's coming," quipped Selwyn. He and Nott snickered. Andromeda tried to nod good-naturedly, but the thought of this boy – this young_ man _– hearing her make the sort of sounds her sister had uttered the night before churned her stomach. Could she really go through with this?_

 _Theo seemed to sense her apprehension. "It'll be alright," he assured her in a gentle tone. He then smiled warmly, took her hand, and led her farther up the winding staircase._

 _He was not as attractive as his friend, with a too-thin face and overlapping front teeth, but he was well-spoken and kind-eyed, which put her a little more at ease. "Don't worry. Your sister picked me because I have experience. I know how to be gentle, get a girl ready, and give a good time, all that." He added in an inflated tone, "I've thus far deflowered five Slytherin girls – you'll be the sixth – and two Ravenclaws, with no complaints. Like I said, I'm gentle, I'll get you ready, and I give a good time, plus, I'm big, and birds like that."_

 _"_ _You're not big," said Andromeda, not catching his meaning. "You're tall, I suppose, but–"_

 _"_ _I don't mean I'm overweight!" He laughed, shaking his head as if she'd said something very stupid. "You'll see. Come on, then." They'd reached the landing. She glanced toward the window. A spring tempest was raging outside; the wind was blowing the rain into the tower, soaking the floor. "Let's start with a snog. Has anyone ever kissed you before?"_

 _"_ _No," she answered, and she very nearly added she didn't want anyone kissing her now either, especially not someone with such a thin face and overlapping front teeth, but his lips were on hers before she could think of how to word this in a non-offensive way. She let his tongue explore her mouth, but did not reciprocate, did not react in any way, not even when his hands went to her breasts, massaging through the fabric of her uniform blouse._

 _He did not undress her completely. He removed her blouse, bra, and knickers, leaving her knee-high socks, woolen skirt, patent leather shoes, and green striped tie. He removed his own shirt and shoes, unfastened his trousers, and encouraged her to use her mouth on him while he stood with his back to the rain. At first, she half-wanted to gag and half-wanted to cry as she licked and sucked him as instructed – he insisted this was necessary for him to be "ready" – but as his breathing quickened and he fisted her hair she found herself almost enjoying the task. Not the act itself, but the reaction she was evoking from him. She stroked his length as he'd demonstrated and laved her tongue over the head as he'd done to her breasts until he was throbbing and moaning her name._

 _He knelt down, easing her onto her back, and resumed foreplay, focusing mostly on the nub between her folds, which she had curiously flicked her fingers against a few times in the shower, but had otherwise paid very little attention to. When he finally entered her, first with his fingers and then with his cock, she didn't know how to feel. Was it good? Was it awful? Was this the way it was supposed to feel?_

 _It hurt._

 _Physically, it hurt._

 _But emotionally, she'd gone numb. It was almost as if she wasn't even there. She could hear the same grunts and growls and groans he'd made the night before, but she might as well have been on the stairs again, waiting and wondering what made her sister whisper and sigh. She made not a sound, except a hiss of pain when he started to thrust. She felt as empty as she would if she were intentionally employing Occlumency. Was that normal? She stared past his shoulder at the high ceiling as he continued, and wondered whether the damp feeling between her legs was caused by arousal, which she didn't seem to be experiencing, or blood, which pureblood families always checked for after the post-marriage consummation._

 _Fuck. The post-marriage consummation._

 _How was she going to convince the Lestranges she'd been a virgin at the time of her marriage if she was flat on her back for a boy right now?_

 _Had Bella thought that far ahead?_

 _"_ _Er... should I stop?" Theo asked, looking confused. "You seem sort of... dead."_

 _She wondered if he'd never deflowered a girl who didn't enjoy it before._

 _"_ _No," she said, trying to change her expression to one of desire, but certain she was failing. "Keep going. I... like it. Honest. It's... you're... brilliant." She chewed her lip as he resumed movement; he leaned down, caressed her breast, and panted into her ear between kisses placed upon her neck and cheek._

 _"_ _I love shagging virgins," he said with a low-toned grumble. "So bloody tight..."_

 _"_ _Thanks?" The floor was cold against her back. She wished she'd thought to bring a blanket, or to perform a warming charm. "Are you almost through?"_

 _"_ _Through? I've just started!" He grunted exasperatedly and pumped into her a few more times, staring down at her, which she could feel even though her eyes were now closed. Abruptly, he pulled out, and she felt relieved momentarily, but instead of walking away, he flipped her to her stomach on the cold hard tile and slipped into her again, from behind this time, hitting the inner walls of her quim at a new angle._

 _"_ _This is better?" he asked, not awaiting a reply. He held her hips and thrust and jerked while she cushioned her face against her forearms, uncomfortable with the way her cold, exposed nipples were scraping against the concrete floor. He reached around to touch between her legs, which felt confusingly good. After a few seconds of this she heard herself moan – not quite as her sister had, but it was a sound of pleasure nonetheless – and this spurned him on. Though it still hurt to have him inside her, she didn't hate what he was doing with his fingers, and found herself grinding against his hand, twerking her arse against him, and breathing erratically, almost forgetting the overwhelming sensation of regret she'd experienced only seconds early. This seemed to please him even more, as he lasted only about ten seconds longer before pulling out and emptying himself on her back. He then Vanished the evidence of their one-off with his wand, though she could inexplicably still feel the sticky substance lingering there for days afterwards._

 _"_ _Not bad, eh?" he asked as he pulled on and began buttoning his shirt. "Don't tell Bellatrix. I don't trust her not to hex my bollocks off, you know, even though you said you wanted it."_

 _She was unable to respond, down on all fours, struggling to breathe evenly while struggling to make sense of what she'd done. She could only imagine how angry her parents would be if they somehow found out, only wonder whether it would get her disowned or cost her the arranged marriage they were so set on, only fret over whether her husband would notice on their wedding night and demand an annulment thus ruining her reputation indefinitely. Her stomach clenched and, had there been anything in it, she would have vomited. Theo, who was already at the top of the stairs, didn't seem to notice._

 _She sat up and had just pulled on her bra when Selwyn entered. His uniform trousers were tented and he bore a devilish glint in his eye._

 _"_ _My turn," he said, rubbing himself through the material. "I want a jobby. It's my payment for playing lookout. You owe me."_

 _"_ _Don't waste your time, mate!" She couldn't see Theo, but she could hear him, already at the top of the stairs. "She wasn't good. Her sister's loads better, get one from her!"_

 _"_ _I'm good! At least as good as Bella!" she said insistently, though she wasn't sure why she wanted him to think so, why it should matter. She supposed later she was just so used to being worse at Bella than everything; it was one more defeat that she couldn't accept._

 _"_ _Maybe she'll be better second time 'round!" said Selwyn. "Go on, then, Theo, I'll be down in a bit." He released his erection from his trousers. He was thick and slick-tipped and ready. She blanched, realizing she was no more ready for this than she'd been for her 'deflowering.'_

 _"_ _Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for a shag. I have a girlfriend. But since you're down there..." He grabbed the back of her thick, wild hair, pulling her toward his crotch. "Show me you're not rubbish at this like Theo says. Show me you're better than your swot sister. You owe me."_

 _So she did. She tried to do better with him than she had with his friend, not that he deserved 'payment' for having played lookout. He grabbed her tie and held onto it like a dog's leash while she pleasured him, until he finished in her mouth. She spit it on the floor, her stomach lurching, but again she could only dry-heave. He sniggered, shook his head, and fixed his trousers._

 _"_ _Theo's right. You're not good. Worst I've had, really. But if you want to improve, I'll pay you a galleon a week to suck me off up here. My girlfriend won't do it. Says it's the sort of thing only filthy slags do. One condition though – you'll learn to swallow. Spitting is nasty."_

 _"_ _I don't need your galleons," she said, glaring at him with more conviction than she felt. Little did she know that less than a year and a half later she'd be charging that much per job in exchange for gold she desperately needed but couldn't request from her parents. He laughed again and vacated the tower, leaving her alone, half-dressed and still feeling sick, with the cold rain blowing in on her. She brought her knees together and wrapped her arms around them, unable to escape the aching feeling between her legs or the even more painful ache in her chest. Bellatrix was right that their virginity should not be treated like a commodity to be traded from their parents to their future in-laws, to be divested from them by the Lestrange brothers, but she couldn't help feeling it was worth more than_ this _, a thoughtless tryst in an Astronomy Tower on a rainy night with a loathsome older boy. She wasn't sure which was worse – that she hadn't enjoyed most of it, or that, for a few bewildering moments, she_ had _._

 _She dressed quickly and went to the window, sticking her head and upper body out, feeling the cold rain beat down on her head and face and shoulders. She thought about jumping, but quickly dismissed the notion as overdramatic and childish, not to mention a scandal from which her parents' reputation may not recover; she couldn't bring herself to do that to them._

 _When she returned to the common room hours later, it was to find it empty save for one witch by the fireplace, smuggled-in Firewhisky in one hand, a forbidden cigarette in the other. The drink was untouched. Bellatrix held it out to Andromeda, who took it and gulped down two sips, letting it burn away that awful taste lingering in her mouth despite several cleaning spells._

 _"_ _I told him not to touch you. I told you to stay away from him. I said you were too young. Didn't I?"_

 _Andromeda nodded. She knelt on the floor by Bella's feet. Bellatrix stroked her hair and tutted like a disappointed mother – a_ good _mother, not_ their _mother._

 _"_ _Did it hurt?"_

 _"_ _Yes. It still does."_

 _"_ _Did you cry?"_

 _"_ _Not until after. After he'd gone."_

 _"_ _How do you feel now?"_

 _"_ _Dirty."_

 _Andromeda sipped the Firewhisky. Bellatrix wasn't much of a drinker; she was afraid of becoming an alcoholic like mother, and besides, smoking was her vice. She took a long drag of the cigarette before dropping it into the drink in Andromeda's hand, which she then took back and tossed into the fire. The alcohol made the flames whoosh up but Meda didn't even flinch. She let Bellatrix lead her to the Prefects bathroom, where the elder Black sister drew a tub, undressed her younger sister, and eased her into it. Andromeda felt numb; she could hardly register the ornate qualities of the tub, the bubbly jets, the fact that it was deep like a Jacuzzi and not at all like what the non-prefect students were permitted to use._

 _Bellatrix sat on the side of the tub, seemingly not caring when her skirt and blouse got wet, as she shampooed her sister's hair and handed her a washcloth, encouraging her to tend to the rest of her body. She was uncharacteristically gentle and did not lecture or scold as Andromeda thought she might._

 _"Will it hurt... to wash myself?"_

 _"If you do what I did, it will."_

 _Andromeda glanced up at her, puzzled. Bellatrix smiled with her lips, but her eyes were dark and sad._

 _"I scrubbed too hard, left my skin all red and irritated. Don't do that. You're not dirty, Meda. You're not broken or ruined, no matter what Mother would say."_

 _"Mother would say I'm worthless now."_

 _"Mother is a loathsome cunt who wanted sons and never saw us as anything more than extensions of her own failings as a wife."_

 _"Do you reckon Rabastan will still have me? Do you think he'll learn to love me once he's knows I've been... used?"_

 _"Don't worry about Rabastan. Go on, wash up. While the water's still warm."_

 _Andromeda did so, trying not to feel self-conscious about being naked in front of her sister for the first time since they were very small - and also trying not to think about how a boy had just hours ago seen her nearly naked, and another had seen her topless. It was too humiliating._

 _"_ _It's my fault," Bella said after awhile. "I made such a fuss about how I loathed seeing my worth measured by my virginity and my ability to be a decent future wife and breeder, I poisoned your mind."_

 _"_ _You didn't."_

 _"_ _I did. That's why you did this. But you shouldn't have. We're not the same, you and I. You've always been Mother and Father's favorite, the well-behaved one, the ideal pureblood daughter, never whining like Cissy or being combative like me. Having sex hasn't ruined you._ I've _ruined you."_

 _"_ _You haven't."_

 _"_ _I saw the Dark Lord over Easter holiday. I should have told you. I went with Rodolphus and Rabastan and their father and mother to a meeting three days after we met them for tea."_

 _"_ _I thought you were there for dinner!" Andromeda ceased washing to stare up at her sister, surprised. Their future in-laws were supposed to be supervising them through their impending courtship, not bringing a teenager to potentially dangerous meetings with a power-seeking supremacist._

 _"_ _I was able to speak to the Dark Lord alone for a matter of minutes. I told him... I expressed to him my interest in being his... whatever he should want me to be... but he said 'What could I want with a sixteen-year-old virgin?' And he laughed. He literally laughed! So I told him, 'I won't be a sixteen-year old virgin forever.' He said, 'Approach me in the future, then, but I have no interest in you at the present.' I was furious. I'll make him notice me, I'll be his best and most faithful and loyal and capable follower, no matter what I have to do to..." Bellatrix caught herself, tossed her hair, and resumed rinsing the shampoo from Andromeda's. "I will also marry Rodolphus and give him a son, as that is my duty as a decent pureblood witch with a vested interest in continuing both family lines, but it will be a marriage in name only. I'll never love him, and I doubt he'll grow to love me. I don't think he'll care that I've already had sex, so long as I'm willing to have sex with him whenever he desires it, as is my duty, and you can do the same with Rabastan. I don't know that they value virginity as much as our parents do - wizards just want a witch who'll give it up when they want it and not be sour or sore about it, not act like it's a chore, even when it is."_

 _"_ _But what if we don't want to? Why must it be our duty, our chore? Why must we 'give it up' just because_ they _want it?"_

 _"_ _Because we were born with vaginas." Bellatrix chuckled as if the answer should have been obvious. "But sex is just... it's just sex, Meda. It doesn't have to mean anything unless you want it to. All I wanted it to mean with Nott was that I was in control, it was my choice, I gave my virginity away before Mother and Father could give_ me _away. That's all it meant, nothing romantic, nothing about love, nothing life-altering. Love and sex are... they're unrelated. Here, duck your head."_

 _Andromeda held her breath and plunged under the water. She could feel Bella's fingers working through her curls, getting the last of the shampoo out until she resurfaced._

 _"_ _Rabastan may love you someday. I hope he does. And you and he can have children and our children will be cousins – cousins in two ways! – and grow up together as best friends, as we have, with Cissy's children too. But if he doesn't love you, perhaps you'll learn to love someone else, as I do the Dark Lord, and you'll shag your husband because it's expected of you, but you can – you can give you love to someone else. Rodolphus told me he loves an Austrian witch from a very poor family of questionable blood purity. He met her at Durmstrang and intends to continue seeing her after we're married and that's alright by me, so long as he doesn't father any bastard children with her, as bearing progeny is solely the job of the wife."_

 _"_ _But how could you live like that, Bella?" Andromeda twisted her body to face her sister. Despite the hot water, the bubbles, the washcloth and the shampoo, she still felt filthy for what she'd done, and she couldn't imagine marrying someone and seeing someone else on the side, even if they hadn't married for love._

 _"_ _Pureblood men have been living like that for centuries, Meda! You think Father doesn't have mistresses? That Grandfather didn't? That the Lestrange men don't? Why shouldn't I have my own? So long as I do not neglect my duties as a wife and mother, why shouldn't I fall in love with another? Why shouldn't I have sex with whomever I want for whatever reasons I want?"_

 _"_ _I let his friend bugger my mouth!" blurted Andromeda, the confession escaping before she had time to think on the word choice. The heat of shame burned across her face. "He called it his payment for being lookout."_

 _"_ _What?" Bellatrix stood up quickly, knocking the shampoo bottle into the tub with a splash. "What friend? Who? Did he force you?"_

 _"_ _No, not exactly. He... I don't know. I could have said no, I suppose. It was Phillip Selwyn. He said I–"_

 _"_ _I'll kill him! After I'm done hexing off Nott's bollocks for having touched you after I said no, I'll kill his friend. Payment? Payment! Like you're a bloody prostitute and he's your punter? You are a Black, not a whore!"_

 _"_ _But it doesn't matter, right? It's alright, isn't it? You said it only matters if we want it to, and..."_

 _"_ _Having sex for procreation is alright. For recreation is alright. To get it over with, out of the way, like with Nott, that's alright – but only once. After you're married, to do it because it's your duty as a wife is alright or to do it because you want to show someone you love them, that's alright. But as payment? No. Never. Fuck that tripe and fuck that perverse troglodyte Selwyn!"_

 _"_ _I did!"_

 _"_ _Well don't! Never again!"_

 _"_ _I mean, I didn't. Not all the way. We didn't go all the way. I only gave him a–"_

 _"_ _You are a wealthy, high-class, pureblood witch, Andromeda. You pay for what you need in galleons, not on your back like some low class Mudblood slag, do you understand me?"_

 _"_ _But you said it only matters if–"_

 _"_ _Do you understand me?!" The fury on Bellatrix's face would've intimidated even a grown wizard. Andromeda felt herself slinking into the water wanting to disappear to escape it. Finally she whispered that yes, she understood, and it wouldn't happen again._

 _Somehow, even as she uttered the words, despite being only fourteen years of age and prepared for a lifetime as the wife of Rabastan Lestrange, she knew it was a lie. Still, she was relieved when the words made Bella's twisted face and tense shoulders relax. Bellatrix prompted Andromeda to leave the tub, dry off and dress; she'd even thoughtfully already thrown her younger sister's pajamas in her shoulder bag (along with the Firewhisky bottle and cigarette pack). They returned together to Bella's dormitory, where the elder sister dressed for bed. Andromeda crawled under the covers beside her._

 _"_ _For how long will it hurt, Bella?" she whispered. "Down... there?"_

 _"_ _Not long." Bellatrix wrapped her arm around Andromeda's waist. "I hope not long. I'm... still a bit sore, admittedly. But honestly? I liked it. I wouldn't mind doing it again, though probably not with him. I loathe his face. And his teeth."_

 _"_ _Me too!" Andromeda shifted closer to her sister, almost suggesting they wake Narcissa and ask her to join them. Though they hadn't done it in years, when they were small the three cuddled up together often when their parents would fight, as the screaming and sounds of breaking glass and slamming doors frightened them. It had gotten better once their mother stopped drinking, though their father still hit her on occasion. "I hated the way he kissed me. I wish he hadn't been my first kiss."_

 _"_ _You let him kiss you?!" Bella shuddered. "That's vile. Pretend it never happened. Your first kiss is important. It should be special. I haven't had mine yet. I'm waiting for either my wedding day or for the Dark... well, point is, I'm waiting."_

 _"_ _I will too, then." Andromeda closed her eyes, though she wasn't sure how she'd manage to sleep, not with all of the thoughts and fears and self-doubts and self-loathing flying through her head. "My next kiss will be special. It will be my first real kiss. The first one I want to have."_

 _"_ _Kisses matter." As if to punctuate this point, Bellatrix kissed Andromeda on the forehead. "Kisses aren't like sex. Kissing_ always _means something, even if the kiss is not romantic."_

 _"_ _Kisses matter always," reiterated Andromeda. "Sex only matters if you want it to."_

 _"_ _You've got it. I'm tired now, it's late. Let's get some sleep. We can talk about this more tomorrow, but let's not saying anything to Cissy."_

 _"_ _Of course not," agreed Andromeda. "She's too young. She's just a child."_

 _"_ _Precisely. Goodnight, Meda."_

 _"_ _Night, Bella."_

Andromeda wasn't sure at what point during this memory she'd started speaking, or how much detail she'd given. It was all a blur. But when she turned away from the window to face Healer Smelthwick, the expression of support and understanding in the woman's eyes was nearly enough to break her. She employed Occlumency instead, emptying herself of emotions, wiling herself to remain calm and in control.

"You promised your sister you wouldn't trade sex for galleons. What changed?"

"I ran out of galleons."

"And you couldn't ask your parents for money? Why?"

Andromeda returned to her chair, bending her legs up in front of her and wrapping her arms around her knees, as she had in the tower as a fourth year. "Bella got pregnant. I don't know by who, whether it was Theo Nott or if she was with someone else shortly thereafter, but she told my parents when we returned for the summer."

"You told me this."

"She had an abortion."

"Were you pregnant as well?"

"No, but... but one of them... one of them gave me a..." she sighed, but reminded herself she'd already admitted to this in a previous session. "One of them gave me a disease of a sexual nature. And I was frightened. I'd always been well-behaved for my parents – reasonably so, that is – because I didn't want them to suspect that I had my doubts about blood supremacy and our traditions and that I thought the preachings of You-Know-Who were sickening and wrong. I was especially obedient to make up for what I saw as my shortcomings as a good pureblood daughter. And I was also afraid because they rushed Bella into that marriage once they knew she wasn't a virgin, and I was terrified they'd do the same to me. I'd end up fifteen and married to a twenty-one-year-old man I didn't even know, unable to complete my fifth and sixth years even though I was finally made a Prefect then. My parents didn't want me to accept it, but I did anyway. That was the first time I truly rebelled against them - as far as they knew. I didn't want to lose my last years of... of childhood... by telling them I was sick. I wanted to confide in Bella, but she and Rodolphus were living abroad then, recruiting other wizards and witches to You-Know-Who's cause, and she was near impossible to reach."

"Are you telling me you – at age fourteen – contracted a sexual disease and later offered fellatio to fellow students in exchange for galleons in order to get it treated?"

Andromeda shrugged one shoulder unconvincingly nonchalantly. "At first, Madam Pomfrey treated me at Hogwarts and promised not to tell my parents, as she said she didn't want to see me married off early any more than I did, and I thought I was alright, but when it came back a year later she said there was nothing more she could do for me with the materials available to her at the school and if she requested... other things... the Headmaster would want to know why. She said she'd done all she could without informing him or my Head of House or my parents, so I started... I started offering exactly what Selwyn said he'd pay for until I had enough to see the same Mediwitch Bella had for the abortion, though I went to St. Mungo's over Christmas holiday sixth year rather than having her come to me at my parents' home. I used a Glamour and a fake name, and she took care of matters."

"How many others contracted what you had while you were saving up for treatment?"

"Does it matter?" Andromeda asked harshly. "They weren't nice young men who deserved better. They were opportunists, cretins, sick fucks preying on desperate girls. Most had girlfriends or were set to be married but saw fit to cheat on their witches, some had been accused of abusing younger girls when they couldn't get what they wanted from willing ones. I didn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve to be hurt; I was careful in that."

"That's a vile way of looking at matters, Andromeda. Vile, and possibly illegal."

"So have me arrested, then. Put me back in Azkaban. Have me executed. What do you want from me?"

"Don't you feel any remorse? They might have spread what they contracted from you to their girlfriends or future wives, who could then pass it to their children during childbirth. Surely you don't think their wives and children deserved to suffer?"

"It was bloody 1969, Adelaide! Now we're in 2003. I hardly think it matters anymore, but if you believe I can't heal until I've confessed my indiscretions to each and every wizard I knelt down for thirty-four years ago, I can start writing them letters of apology tomorrow after group therapy. I'll even urge them to get tested. Would that make you happy?"

"Nothing about this makes me happy."

"I wanted to be with Ted and I couldn't be with him so long as I had... _that_. So I got _that_ taken care of and then we were able to be together. We married and lived happily ever after – until he was killed by Snatchers and our daughter was murdered by my sister and I started neglecting my grandson while injecting drugs into my bloodstream the Muggle way, then got committed to this place and had a massive bloody row with the Minister for Magic that everyone from Scotland to Greece to Spain and back could probably hear."

Adelaide Smelthwick waved her wand, stopping the quill from writing. It dropped back into her bag, followed by the parchment. "Off the record, why did you hit him?"

"Because I'm a terrible person."

"I highly doubt that's why."

"It's nothing, really."

"I don't believe that it's 'nothing,' and I think we need to talk about it. You've never struck me as a violent person before."

"I've never struck anyone before." Andromeda snickered. "Get it? It's a pun."

"Please don't try to deflect with humor. Why did you hit him? Why have him sent away? What was the fight about?"

"Haven't I opened up to you enough for one day?" Andromeda asked bitterly. She pushed off the chair and went to the dresser to pour more water, but she did not drink. "I told you my deepest, darkest secrets, just as you wanted me to." She went again to the window, wishing the room wasn't so small, feeling caged in like an animal. "I revealed all of my childhood pain and trauma dating back to the start of my unhealthy relationship with sex, things I never even told my husband or my younger sister because I was too ashamed, and now you know. You're welcome."

"Does it provide you with any relief at all to have talked about it?"

"I can't believe I hit him." Andromeda flung herself down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. This is the place and positioned she'd been in when their fight started. "Puns aside, I've never done that before, gotten violent with someone for whom I care a great deal. I never hit Ted. You don't hit people you love. I hit him hard, too. Across the face, first. I slapped him. Then he tried to hold me, to stop me, but I wriggled free and hit him several times in the chest with my fists until he was able to subdue me again. I wanted to hurt him, to cause him pain, physical pain. If I'd had my wand I might have..." She cringed, picturing it, remembering how stoic he'd remained, how passionless, as if this were an everyday occurrence, as if he hadn't just been shouting at her in response to her sharp-tongued words directed toward him. He's never raised his voice to her before, and she'd responded in the worst possible way. "I told him I wish I could Crucio him, that I wanted to watch him writhe in pain. How can he ever forgive me?"

"He's forgiven you many things over the last year, hasn't he?"

"Too many."

"Would you like to write him a letter?" asked Healer Smelthwick gently as she got up and moved toward the bed to take Andromeda's hand. "Letter writing can be remarkably therapeutic, even when you don't send what you've written."

"I think I'd rather write my sister a letter." Andromeda pulled her hand away. Healer Smelthwick did not reach for it again. "I have a lot I need to say to her."

"To Narcissa?"

"No." Andromeda draped her arms over her face, muffling her next words. "To Bellatrix."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to my new Followers and those who added to Faves, and to my Chapter 7 reviewers: **FrancineHibiscus, sassanech, PopularCats, emrldapplejuice,** and **Jenna98** (also, thank you to Jenna98 for the lovely review on Stages of Grief!).

I'd love to know what readers thought of this talk-heavy and flashback-heavy chapter. I love writing young Bellatrix as a loving, loyal big sister whose views warped her over time to the point that she was capable of killing her own niece in service to the Dark Lord. I kind of wish JK would write a whole prequel just about the Black sisters' childhoods, but I'm kind of glad she hasn't (for fanfic purposes).

Thanks for reading!

 **-AL**


	9. Part One: Week 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

 **END OF WEEK 9**

"Now that you've broken it off with the Minister for Magic, do you reckon your preferential treatment will end?" an unfamiliar voice hissed, interrupting her daydream. Andromeda glanced up slowly from the soup on the table in front of her to see a tall, wiry-haired man of about forty wearing Muggle attire, not the facility-issue pajamas required of patients like her. She recognized him from group therapy but wasn't sure she'd ever interacted with him before.

She cocked one eyebrow, lifted her spoon, an ugly confrontation wasn't eminent.

"Excuse me?"

"If any of the rest of us had done a fraction of the things you have, we'd have been expelled, but you – you can get high, you can attempt suicide, you can fuck a nurse, you can–"

"Not that it's any of your concern, but I did not fuck that nurse. Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to enjoy this subpar split pea soup."

"Don't let me ruin your appetite." He pulled out the seat beside her and settled into it. She sighed. It was Thursday of her first week of eating meals in the dining hall, which she saw as a punishment from Adelaide Smelthwick, who recommended it after her confession the previous Saturday. "So, when did you first start working as a prostitute?"

"Fuck you."

"I'd love to. How much?"

"You can't be serious!" She laughed, delicately placed her spoon back in the bowl, and turned toward him. "I don't know to whom you've been speaking or what you've been told, but the Minister and I have been seeing each other for years and despite last week's... _disagreement_... we remain committed to each other. I am not a prostitute, and even if I were, my personal standards are such that I'd never even consider an offer like yours."

"Too good for a half-blood, _Bellatrix?"_

"Do I know you?"

"No, but I knew your daughter, Tonks. We were Aurors together."

"You knew Nymphadora?"

"She kept a picture of you and your husband on her desk until the Ministry takeover. Then it was replaced by one of you alone. She told our new superiors that you and your husband had separated but we all knew it to be a lie. She was protecting you, same as the Minister is protecting you now, same as Harry Potter protected you at the Ministry."

"Harry Potter?" She took another sip of her soup but it was as much to have something to do with her hands as it was to quench her hunger; she could hardly taste it. "What of Harry Potter?"

"I was there at the Ministry during that rally on the first anniversary of You-Know-Who's defeat. I listened to you speak, until the situation devolved, a fight broke out, and so many of you were arrested. They let you go because Harry Potter demanded it, but no one was fooled by his insistence that you don't espouse the same views as your depraved supremacist family. You're a Death Eater apologist. You defended your murderous sister. Everyone heard you."

"I did not defend her _actions_ ," said Andromeda testily, even less enthused about the reminder of the day she got arrested than she was about his mention of her row with Kingsley. "The rally was in defense of _life_ , to end the executions. If my sister had survived the battle, I'd have wanted to see her rot in Azkaban, not to be released, not ever – but it wouldn't have been up to the Ministry to _kill_ her. We – those of us not on the side of You-Know-Who – ought to be better than that. Better than he was. Now, if you'll excuse me." She sipped her water, stood, and set the glass by her bowl. "I see no reason to prolong this interaction."

"My wife was killed in the Battle at Hogwarts. Right in front of me. She was an Auror too. We had no children. She was my entire world, married almost twenty years, and your deranged sister took her away."

"You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I lack understanding in regards to the destruction brought about by my sister, sir," said Andromeda, choosing her words carefully, taking pains to remain calm. "Bellatrix Lestrange murdered my only child in cold blood. She had my husband and I tortured for information, and she drove my friend Alice into madness over twenty years ago, for which she was imprisoned. Trust me, I am acutely aware of the scope of her crimes and live every day wondering how the world might have been different had it been possible to stop her before her descent into madness."

He scoffed, and she inwardly fought the urge to slap him as she had Kingsley. Instead, she continued, eager to end the conversation on her terms and escape it.

"I therefore feel for you in your pain, but make no mistake, sir, I am no prostitute and no apologist, and I've not had special treatment since arriving here on account of or by request of the Minister. Good afternoon." She turned and stalked toward the door, head held high, back straight. He'd not only made her lose her appetite, he made her want to lose her lunch.

"Those are lies and you know it!" he called after her. "You may not be an apologist – that was my interpretation – but anyone else who'd behaved as you have here would've been tossed out." He stood and continued to shout at her back as she made her way toward the door. She tried to pretend she couldn't hear while fighting the urge to break into a run. "No one else is allowed visitors to their private rooms! No one else is permitted multiple indiscretions! Not one else gets accepted back after two discharges to St. Mungo's!" She was almost to the door. He raised his voice. "No one else here whored herself out to Thorfinn Rowle for Elven Herb only to see her crimes swept under the rug at the Ministry!"

This last accusation stopped her dead in her tracks. How had he known? Who was he, exactly? He'd come in after her, of that she was certain. This was perhaps this fifth or sixth week, whereas she was nearly through her ninth. She wondered if he was one of the Aurors who'd arrested Rowle, who'd heard him 'sing' about her in his confession, expecting it would get him preferential treatment as the Ministry wouldn't want word getting out.

Apparently, word was out.

"What would Tonks say?" He went on cruelly. "If she knew what a filthy junkie slag her mother had become since her father's death?"

She turned, letting her short hair sweep across her shoulders dramatically as she did so, and stared him down with daggers in her eyes. She could feel the gaze of every other witch and wizard in the room penetrating her skin, ripping the flesh from her bones, leaving her weakened and exposed to the elements, but she refused to show emotion. Employing Occlumency as she had since childhood, she kept an expressionless face and let her reply tumble forth in a dispassionate tone.

"You, _sir,_ know nothing of me, of my life, of my history or of my struggles. I make no denial of my drug habit; I have been battling that particular addiction for near on a year and it is the primary reason I have found myself here. Beyond that, you know not of which you speak, thus should take great care to keep your mouth _closed_ – or, at the very least, keep my name and that of my daughter from passing through your lips, or the consequences shall be swift and painfully felt. Understand?"

The man opened his mouth to retort, but mercifully someone had alerted the staff to the situation in the dining hall and they'd descended upon the room to diffuse the situation. She shrugged off the nurse who attempted to console her, insisting she was quite fine, thank you, while he cursed and muttered to the two who'd hurried to his sides.

She spent the next hour pacing furiously alone in her room tugging out strands of her hair until it was time for an individual therapy session with Adelaide Smelthwick.

"I heard about what happened at lunch," the Healer said as she took her usual seat in the Transfigured chair opposite Andromeda, flicking her wand to start the quill scratching.

"Who was that man?"

"I am not supposed to provide you with information regarding other patients."

"He called me a whore in front of the entire..." She closed her eyes and shook her head, too flummoxed to finish the sentence. "You can't even tell me his name?"

"William Whitely. An Auror. Yes, he was one of those who arrested Thorfinn Rowle, yes, he witnessed that rally in the Ministry, and yes, what he said about his wife having been killed by your sister is true. But you didn't learn any of that from me."

"Are you a Legilimens? Those were the three questions I was going to ask."

"I am not, but I have been doing this job for over ten years... and, if I were you, given what he said today, those are the three things I would have wanted to know."

"How do you know everything he said? He didn't shout the bit about his wife or the rally."

"Another patient at your table told me during her session."

"Dorcas Kensington?"

"I'm afraid I cannot say."

"She was sitting at my table. It was only the two of us before he... She sits with me frequently, but we don't speak. There was a time when I wanted nothing more than to talk to her, but..."

"You should. But delicately. I'm more worried about her mental state than yours. But you..."

" _Didn't hear that from me_ ," Andromeda finished for her, smiling slightly. "I don't think Kingsley will visit me this Saturday, do you?"

"He's not permitted to. You had him thrown out, remember?"

"But he... he's the Minister for Magic. Surely, if he wanted to–"

"You're the patient. Your mental and physical health is what's most important to us, and, I suspect, to Minister Shacklebolt too. If you refuse to see him, he won't visit."

"I want him to visit. But I also want to refuse to see him. I want him to come here but not be allowed to see me... is that immature of me?"

"A bit," answered Adelaide honestly, but she was smiling. "Understandable, though. If I may take a moment to share my impression of you, Andromeda Tonks?"

"Please."

"You seem to be the sort of person who wants things done on her own terms. I have a feeling you are like your older sister in that way, forgive me for saying so. From losing your virginity so that no one could take it from you to refusing to see the Minister while not wanting him to not want to see you... even what you've told me of your encounters with Rowle and Nurse Benedict. You need to be in control to feel comfortable, is that fair?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"You are even controlling of your environment. The way you organize your drawers and toiletries, the way you make your bed... You know, other patients allow the house-elves to make their beds. You're the only one, to my knowledge, who has actually unmade it after they've done it so you can do it over the way you prefer."

"I saw a Muggle therapist for awhile when Nymphadora was small. She called it Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I was obsessively neat. I... but not because I wanted to be. I was... I thought, if I let things... I let our home fall into disarray, our lives would as well, and... and if we didn't keep things a certain way, the way the felt most right, terrible things would happen. I was driving Ted mad. He's very messy. Dora, too. She's exactly like him. I started calling my husband Tornado Ted because he brings destruction wherever he goes – his shoes on the kitchen floor, his jumper on the back of the couch, his magazines spread all over the bed. I tried to raise Dora to be like me, neat and tidy and organized, but she'd lose her nose if it weren't attached to her face. And Teddy! Teddy leaves his socks and toys and pumpkin juice everywhere, even though I've told him over and over to..." her voice trailed off. "I've just realized I was speaking of them in the present, as if they're still here. Ted and Dora. I hate it when I do that.."

"I know. We've talked about that. And as I've told you, it's alright to -"

"But I'd rather not," Andromeda cut her off. "They're dead and it doesn't help anyone to speak as if they're not."

"No, I suppose it doesn't." Healer Smelthwick summoned over a glass of water from the pitcher atop the dresser. "When did you develop this obsessive neatness?"

"I... I don't remember. I was always tidy. Cissy too. And Bella, to a lesser extent. It was expected of us. But it didn't become a problem until... until..." She wracked her brain, trying to remember when it had gone from something Ted liked about her to something that drove him mad. "When he moved back home, I suppose. When he was gone, when he and Nymphadora were living with his sister after he learned of my affair, I spent night after night alone at home organizing and reorganizing the house, waiting for them to return. The war was raging then, and stress was... high. I wanted our house to be perfect for when they came back. Ugh!" She let out a groan of frustration and smacked her hand down on the arm of the chair. "I've got it all, haven't I? Mental illness, sexual deviance, alcoholism, drug addiction, self injury..." She indicated the nearly healed cut on her arm from the mirror incident. "I don't feel suicidal, though. Not anymore. That must count for something?"

"I think it's a positive step. And I also think you're being too hard on yourself. Look at all you've endured, Andromeda. Look at where you came from, what you've come through. Hell – I hate to say this, but look at your family tree. Madness isn't exactly a stranger to the Black and Rosier families."

"A lot of inbreeding in the old pureblood families," agreed Andromeda with a shudder. "My aunt Walburga was both a Black by birth _and_ by marriage. She was my father's brother and she married their cousin. Amazing Sirius and Regulus were as healthy as they were. She had three other sons, you know, all of whom died before reaching a year; didn't even make it on the tapestry. She was completely barmy by forty and dead shortly thereafter."

"How old did you mother live to be?"

"Let me think... I read about her passing in the Prophet. I believe it was around nineteen-eighty...four? Eight-five? Before Father. He died in 1992, at sixty-three, but Mother... My guess is 1985 at fifty-one."

"What of? That's young. Was madness a factor? Do you know?"

"I didn't until recently, as a matter of fact. But Narcissa told me. They both died of complications of Wizard's Syphilis." She snorted derisively. "Perhaps if Mother had spent more time on her knees in exchange for galleons, she could've had it taken care of before it took care of her. If only she'd confided in me rather than letting my aunt blast me off that bloody family tapestry, she might still be alive tormenting house-elves today."

"Do you hate her?"

"Very much."

"Because of her views on blood purity? Or because of the importance she placed on your 'virtue' rather than on your person?"

"Because she let me go." Andromeda combed her hair in front of her face. It wasn't as effective a curtain as the old style, but it would have to do. She bent up her knees and rested her forehead against them. "I would do anything to have Nymphadora back, even if just for a day. An hour. Just for one hug, to tell her I love her once more. But my mother? She didn't even write me. _Bella_ wrote me. Bella wrote me over and over for a year and made promises – 'Mother will forgive you,' that rubbish – but my own mother never said another word to me. She didn't write to ask me home, she didn't track me down, she didn't demand I have my marriage annulled. Not that I would have! I loved Ted and do not for a moment regret having married him. But she didn't even try! On the contrary, she..." Andromeda could feel the red splotches forming across her face as she attempted to quell her fury over her mother's response to her elopement.

"Father sent a Howler. It was my only correspondence from him. ' _Leave that filthy Mudblood and return home immediately, Andromeda Catherine, or you are dead to us.'"_

"That must have been rather hurtful."

"My mother's voice in the background was worse. ' _No,'_ she said. ' _No. She's sullied now. Dirty. Ruined. The Lestrange boy won't want her and neither should we.'_ My father repeated, _'Home, immediately, Andromeda.'_ And that was the entire message. How could she?" Andromeda slammed her feet back down on the floor, pushed her hair from her face, and sought answers from the eyes of Healer Adelaide Smelthwick, who had none. "I was her child! She cared so little for me – so bloody little! – she couldn't be bothered to... to... I will never not regret staying home the night of the Final Battle! I will never stop asking myself whether I could have saved my daughter if I'd thrown myself in front of Bella's curse instead! I'll never forgive myself for not killing my sister before she could kill my daughter! But my own mother thought I was so thoroughly damaged by running off with a Muggleborn that she _chose_ to let me be dead to her! She let me be _dead_ to her! How could she? She was my _mother_! She birthed me, she _nursed_ me, she claimed to _love_ me! And then I left and she _let me go_ without a fight, without question, without... without... Narcissa was willing to lie in the face of Lord Voldemort with our sister standing right there beside him because she wanted to find and save her son! Nymphadora rushed into battle despite being only a fortnight postpartum to fight for a better future for her son! Alice Longbottom hid her baby in a cupboard after silencing his voice when my sister and her husband arrived to attack so he'd be safe! And Harry Potter's mother _threw herself in front of the Killing Curse_ for her baby! She willingly _died_ to save him, but my mother couldn't even send a bloody letter ordering me to come home? What kind of mother is that?"

"Not a good one."

"No. No, not a good one. A good mother would at least _try_ to save her child."

Adelaide nodded, sent her water goblet back to the dresser, and leaned forward. "Teddy's mother rushed into battle despite only being a fortnight postpartum because she wanted to give him a better life, while his grandmother nearly gave up raising him because she couldn't face herself in the mirror."

Andromeda gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Had she not been sitting she might have sunk to her knees on the hard floor. As it was, she nearly slipped from her chair.

"I almost left my Teddy," she whispered, horrified, behind shaking hands. "I've become my mother!"

"You haven't." Adelaide moved her chair closer, reached up to gently take Andromeda's hands between hers, and held them down on her lap. "Every day you're here, you're fighting for him as your mother was unwilling or unable to fight for you. You are overcoming centuries of inbreeding and madness and prejudice, you are overcoming a childhood of neglect and abuse – raising you girl the way your parents did was abusive – and you're overcoming decades of alcohol abuse and depression, self-loathing over a heartbreaking sexual history, and nearly a year of drug use."

"But at least my house is tidy," joked Andromeda, half-smiling. Adelaide returned the smile, squeezing her hands comfortingly. "When you leave next month – in under a month – I fully believe you'll be able to parent Teddy the way he needs. I have faith in you, Andromeda. You are one of the strongest, most remarkable witches I've had the pleasure of Healing, because your life is full of difficulties and challenges others would find insurmountable, but again and again you push on. I was impressed by your letter to Bellatrix on Tuesday, as I told you. It's incredible you made it this far without succumbing to addiction, and the progress in these last two weeks alone, barring whatever happened with the Minister last Saturday, is impressive."

"I hit him."

"I know. But why?"

"I'm not ready."

"Well, when you are." Healer Smelthwick released her hands, pushed her chair back, and stood to stretch. "You know I'm here."

"I know."

"We have another fifteen minutes. How are you doing with the potions withdrawal? Any tremors or nightmares?"

"Nightmares, I think, but I can't remember them upon waking. No tremors. I've been weaned slowly."

They spent the rest of the session talking about alcohol, and how best to decline it when offered once she was released. That had proven difficult previously, as she hadn't wanted to stand out by saying no during various social engagements, and now that she was dating the Minister there were a great many social engagements to attend. This, she knew, would be a forever struggle, and the only surefire way for her to avoid drinking too much was to avoid drinking at all.

Once Adelaide had gone, she took tea in her room and stared out the window, lost in thought. It was a sunny day, one that might almost prompt her to go to the courtyard, but she did not want to run into that man again, thus she stayed inside.

She thought about her mother, and her daughter, and about Teddy, about her sister Narcissa, and her sister Bella, and even about her cousin Sirius. She thought about how lovely it would be to be released... how lovely, and how frightening.

It wasn't until well after dinner that she allowed herself to think about Kingsley.

She'd spent at least half their relationship wondering why he was interested in her, certain she wasn't good enough for him, and terrified he'd wake up one morning to realize he'd been inexplicably bewitched, only to leave her without warning.

She'd had these fears during her marriage to Ted, too, but they seemed worse this time around. Perhaps because she was older. Or because they didn't have a child to anchor them, as she and her husband had. Perhaps it was because she genuinely felt she didn't deserve such a patient, understanding, forgiving man. In that respect, it was almost a good thing he'd done what he did – it made him less perfect, less wonderful. Less deserving of her.

The first time he told her he loved her, they'd been seeing each other for over eight months. It was Halloween 2001 and she'd offered to care for baby Hope overnight because Narcissa said Severus needed 'space' and 'air' on the anniversary of the murder of his childhood best friend (which he still felt was his fault). Kingsley came over to keep her company. They got takeaway from the local Indian place, which three-and-a-half-year-old Teddy enjoyed but Hope, at thirteen months, had no interest in. After dinner they played with the children, put Hope to bed in the crib Teddy had outgrown, then read to Teddy until it was his bedtime too.

Then they settled on the couch for conversation and wine.

Looking back, she realized she drank a lot in Kingsley's presence. She rarely got drunk, or even tipsy, but she usually had a glass of something or other in her hand, whether they were out or at home. As Adelaide assured her during their session earlier, this would need to be discussed and dealt with upon her release; he'd been enabling her for over two years despite knowing about her prior struggles with the spirits.

On Halloween night, they talked in-depth about their pureblood childhoods for the first time. His family was a little like hers in that they believed in the importance of continuing the magical line and saw Squibs as a source of great shame, but unlike hers in that they supported their children marrying those of mixed blood, so long as they, too, were magic. They had been staunchly anti-Voldemort, whereas hers were quiet supporters and financial backers from the very start.

 _"Why didn't you join the Order?" he asked. He was sitting with his left side against the back of the sofa and his back to the arm, with her in front of him, her back to his chest. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. It was a cool night, even with the fireplace roaring across from them. "Surely you agreed with Dumbledore's mission?"_

 _"During the first war, I was afraid."_

 _"Of Voldemort?"_

 _She flinched at the sound of his name. "Of my family. I knew Bella was in love with him, I knew the Malfoys were among his greatest supporters, and I knew both my mother and father wanted to see him succeed. I was afraid to be vocally, visibly against him – even in a group that was supposed to be shrouded in secrecy like the Order. When his rise started, when his reign of terror got underway, it was late 1970. We were newlyweds, and we were poor. We didn't have time to put in extra work for Dumbledore, we were working just to survive. I was a barmaid at the inn, trying not to let myself be discovered, Ted had gone back to Hogwarts hoping if one of us finished school we'd have a chance at a better future. Bella wrote me all that year, I didn't respond... And I didn't want to draw attention to us. I got pregnant for the first time in late-1971 and the second in mid-1972; Nymphadora was born Valentine's Day 1973. I didn't want to get involved. I thought it too dangerous, not just for myself but for Ted and Dora. The way I saw it, we had a target directed our way simply by having defied tradition and married across blood-lines and I saw no reason to further anger my sister, new brother-in-law, or parents."_

 _He held her more tightly and kissed her neck._

 _"Nymphadora was eight years old when Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. It was an awful night. The entire wizarding world was rejoicing, but I couldn't, because soon enough the word came that Alice and Frank had been... what Bellatrix did to them. Alice was my friend. She'd been in Hufflepuff with Ted. All I could think was, what they did to her, that could have been me – or my daughter. My sister did that to them. My sister! You have to understand, I loved her very much, then. I always hoped we'd reconcile, as Cissy and I have. But she was too far gone. Even then, she was too far gone. Maybe that's why I didn't join the Order during the first war. While I'd never take up her views on blood purity on support that monster, I wanted us to be sisters again."_

 _"But when the second war came, you let us use your home as a safe house."_

 _"And You-Know-Who sent Death Eaters to torture us for it." She glanced toward the kitchen, the room in which she and Ted had been having tea when their attackers arrived without warning. "They said they were seeking information, same as Bella said about the Longbottoms, but they weren't, not really. They were seeking to punish us. I always wondered..." She averted her gaze toward the fireplace, where enchanted purple and green flames flickered and danced._

 _"Wondered...?"_

 _"He could have sent Bella. To my home. When he took over the Ministry, our protections were immediately destroyed. He sent Goyle and Zabini and..." Andromeda cleared her throat. She knew the next name would mean little to Kingsley, but recalling his presence in her home sickened her. "And_ Theodore Nott. _Why didn't she do it herself? One would think she'd jump at the chance."_

 _"Maybe she was afraid."_

 _"Afraid?" Andromeda laughed. "Of what, precisely?"_

 _"I believe she found murdering Nymphadora more difficult than she'd anticipated, and not because she felt any connection to the girl. She had a reputation for being ruthless, but I imagine torturing you, even simply seeing you after all those years, it may have proven a challenge she was not ready to face. What if she found herself unable to torture you? How could she face her Master after that? What excuse could she give?"_

 _"Have I mentioned recently how much I adore you?" she asked, twisting her upper body to kiss him._

 _"Not recently enough," he answered, welcoming the kiss._

 _Before long, she was on top of him, grinding her body over hers, enjoying the evidence of his growing arousal. She had his wizard's robe unfastened down to his navel while he kept his hands on her arse, encouraging her to continue her oral exploration of his upper body._

 _"Let me have you," he begged as she kissed her way down the center of his broad chest. "Let me take you to bed. Please, Andromeda... Please... please, I need you."_

 _"I can't, I'm sorry, I can't."_

 _She had rules, and one was that they would not have sex while Teddy was home, which meant they usually spent the night at his place or a hotel or inn while the boy was being minded by her sister or his godfather. He'd therefore thus far never even seen her bedroom, not once in eight months, though they'd twice had sex on the couch while Teddy was out._

 _She was just about to press her lips lower, to the waistband of his silk undershorts, when a wail from the bedroom upstairs startled them both._

 _"Hope!" She crawled off him and hurried toward the stairs, rebuttoning her blouse as she did so. When she reached the bedroom it was to find the baby had vomited in the crib. Upon lifting her, it was clear the one-year-old was feverish. She Vanished the vomit and hurried down the hall to the loo, hoping the crying wouldn't wake Teddy._

 _She had just lowered the baby into a lukewarm bath when Teddy began crying down the hall._

 _"Come here, love!" she called, hoping he wasn't sick too. "Teddy!"_

 _"I WANT NANA!" wailed Teddy. "NANA COME HERE!"_

 _"Teddy,_ you _come here! I..." She lifted the baby from the tub only for the girl to promptly projectile vomit, which she Vanished, but again, the smell lingered. "Dammit. COME HERE, TEDDY!"_

 _"NNNNOOOOO, NAAAAANNNAAA! I WAAAANNT NANA COME HERE NOWWWW!"_

 _She was feeling a bit like wailing herself when she heard Kingsley's deep voice say Teddy's name. Moments later, the Minister for Magic entered the small bathroom at the end of the hall with a screaming, foul-smelling vomit-covered toddler in his arms._

 _"Someone wanted you," he explained, setting Teddy down on the floor. The boy immediately threw his arms around his grandmother for a hug, squishing the remants of his sickness against her chest._

 _"You could have Vanished it," she said, pulling a face over the boy's shoulder at Kingsley._

 _"The thought did not occur to me," he said, shrugging sheepishly, an unfamiliar look on him._

 _"No matter." She couldn't help smiling. The man was capable of running the entire Wizarding World in the UK but it hadn't occurred to him to Vanish the vomit off a small child before carrying him down a hallway. He pointed the wand at his front and did so, then Vanished it from both Teddy and Andromeda, who was still holding onto little Hope. She pressed the back of her free hand to the boy's forehead. Sure enough, fever._

 _"Let's get those pajamas off, then it's into the tub, Teddy."_

 _But Teddy didn't want to get his pajamas off. He wanted Nana to do it. Because he didn't "feels good."_

 _So Kingsley knelt on the floor beside Andromeda, helped to strip the boy, and placed him in the tub with his cousin. He then entertained the children with bath toys while Andromeda washed them in the tepid water, hoping both to bring down the fevers and to eliminate that foul lingering stench. About fifteen minutes later, she lifted both out, one at a time, and dried them off, then she carried Hope and he Teddy into the bedroom to put on clean pajamas. Kingsley also helped her clean the bedding, but neither child was keen on returning to a crib or bed, so they brought them both downstairs to the sitting room._

 _Kingsley read to Teddy on the couch while Andromeda paced back and forth across the room with Hope in her arms. When the baby was finally asleep against her chest, she sat to her grandson's other side, and within minutes he was asleep too, with his head in her lap._

 _"I never wanted children," Kingsley whispered, stroking Teddy's hair, which was in its natural state – mouse brown and nearly shoulder-length. "That's what ended my relationship with Hestia."_

 _"I know," whispered Andromeda. She kissed the soft hair on top of baby Hope's head. "You've told me. But when you're a parent, the difficult times – when they're sick and screaming – are offset by these quiet moments, when they seem so sweet and small."_

 _"They_ are _sweet and small." He paused, staring at her, and cleared his throat as if he intended to say more, but more did not come, though he continued to stare._

 _"What?" she asked finally. "What is it?"_

 _"I love you, Andromeda."_

 _She chuckled softly, certain she must not have heard him correctly. "What?"_

 _"I love you."_

 _She shook her head, glanced from Teddy to Hope and back, then sighed. "You know that I have bad blood, right? I come from a terrible family. I was in Slytherin, same as they were."_

 _"I don't care about your blood. I love you."_

 _She shook her head again before nuzzling against Hope, unable to look at him, though she could feel her pale cheeks going slightly pink._

 _"You couldn't possibly."_

 _"I do. Andromeda, look at me."_

 _She did, though it almost frightened her to do so. Being a natural Legilimens, she was a superior reader of people, even accomplished Occlumens like him, and she wasn't sure which would scare her more - to see sincerity in his expression, or to sense a lie._

 _She saw sincerity._

 _It scared her._

 _But she liked it, too._

 _"I_ _love you," he repeated emphatically._

 _"I love you, too," she whispered across the children. She blinked and tears came to her eyes, though she willed them not to fall. "I've loved you for months, but I thought... How could you possibly...? You're... you. And I'm..."_

 _"Perfection." He leaned over Teddy to press his lips ever-so-briefly to hers. "You're perfection. You almost make me want children."_

 _She started to snigger, but bit her lip to keep from waking the children. "Merlin's beard, you've gone mad, you poor man."_

 _"I said_ almost." _He kissed her once more before leaning back, not minding when Teddy adjusted himself in his sleep, stretching his legs across the Minister's lap. "But I_ do _love you."_

 _"I assure you, one child was enough for me... and I love you, too."_

In her room at the rehabilitation facility, shortly before succumbing to sleep, Andromeda replayed these "I love yous" in her mind... and wondered how she could possibly convince him to love her again, after what she'd done the week before. What she'd said.

Perhaps even more perplexing, she wondered how she could continue to love him after what _he'd_ done. What he'd said.

She'd been cruel, but so had he, though she felt she deserved more of the blame for pushing him into it. And if there was one thing she was good at, it was taking blame.

Healer Smelthwick had faith that she could make a full recovery, but as Kingsley told her at the end of Week Three, he couldn't promise they'd still be together when this was over, and now more than before it seemed unlikely their relationship would make it through rehab unscathed.

She sighed, flipped the pillow to the cool side, and closed her eyes to the darkness around her, hoping for sleep.

If only she hadn't started drinking again in the first place.

If only she hadn't sought Elven Herb.

If only she hadn't gone to Thorfinn Rowle, of all people.

If only Nymphadora hadn't gone to Hogwarts that night.

If only Ted hadn't been caught by Snatchers.

If only she could tell Ted how sorry she was.

If only she could tell Kingsley the same.

If only she could stop doubting it every time she heard him say, "I love you."

If only... if only... if only.

Only three more weeks.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Don't worry, you'll find out in Week 10 what happened between the two of them earlier in Week 8; I won't prolong the suffering for too long! Thank you to **Jenna98, somethingnew2016, FrancineHibiscus,** and **emrldapplejuice** for reviewing Chapter 8! I'm planning to finish this fic by the end of January and your reviews help keep me going! :) Also, thank you to my two new followers and to everyone reading!

 **-AL**


	10. Part One: Week 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

 **END OF WEEK 10**

Healer Smelthwick pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She felt she'd aged a decade at least since the start of Mrs. Tonks' Thursday therapy session. She wouldn't be surprised to find she'd gone completely gray and gained a new wrinkle down the center of her forehead in the last thirty-four minutes.

"Oh, Andromeda," she said, shaking her head. "You know I like Minister Shacklebolt, don't you?"

Andromeda half shrugged but did not look up from her lap, unwilling to make eye contact. She was cleaning her glasses with the bottom of her pajama top even though they weren't at all dirty. Only two more days in this attire and she'd be permitted her regular clothes again, assuming all went well for the next forty-eight hours... and on the condition she share with her private Healer what had transpired between her and Kingsley a couple of weeks before.

"And because I like him, I _am_ sorry to say this... but I don't think you should see him anymore."

"What?" Andromeda's head snapped up. "Why not? You don't believe he loves me?"

"I believe he loves you, and I believe that you love him, and I also believe that – at the present – he is not good for you."

"You're serious?" Andromeda cocked an eyebrow and scoffed. "That's rich. He's not good enough for me? I think you have that reversed. He's the bloody Minister for Magic and I'm a drug addicted part-time prostitute."

"I didn't say 'not good enough,' I said, 'not good.' You've spent weeks telling me that you're not good enough for him, calling yourself a whore and highlighting your perceived faults, but it is my professional opinion that your view of the relationship is somewhat skewed in his favor. Unfairly so."

"That it utterly ridiculous." Andromeda put her glasses on and regarded the younger woman discerningly, like Madam Pince staring down a student in the Restricted Section. "He has taken care of me, he has loved me even when I did not deserve it, he's paying to keep me here..."

"He has enabled you."

"Enabled? In what way?"

Though it was arguably unprofessional to do so, Adelaide laughed.

"In what way? Andromeda, before you and he started seeing each other, he had you spend two weeks in rehab with your sister, remember? He knew you had a drinking problem, and yet every Ministry function you attended as a couple, he made no comment when you imbibed in champagne, wine, party drinks... On the contrary, he supplied you with alcohol, did he not?"

"Only because to abstain would draw attention! And I assured him one wouldn't cause me any harm."

"Did you assure him? Or did he assure you?"

"I... he..." Andromeda screwed up her face, recalling the first time they'd spoken at one of those functions. It was the orphan fundraiser banquet Draco hosted. A house-elf had come along with a tray of champagne in gold-rimmed flutes. She'd reached for one and hesitated, glancing at Kingsley, wondering whether he'd judge her for taking one... or not taking one.

"Go on," he'd said kindly, completely without the judgment she so feared. "What harm can one glass of champagne do?"

But it hadn't done her any harm! She'd only had the one. She nursed it all night long so she wouldn't be tempted to go for another, or to order something stronger from the open bar. She hadn't gotten pissed or even tipsy, she had simply accepted the one glass with a smile and a word of thanks after receiving his blessing, then they'd found themselves at an abandoned table watching while others were dancing. There they had eaten oysters and toasted the success of the evening and chatted for nearly two straight hours, and she'd gone home feeling as bubbly as the drink she shouldn't have consumed. It was the first time she'd failed in her sobriety – that time. This was before they'd slept together (or, more accurately, before they'd shagged against the wall in the storeroom). He'd been a perfect gentleman that evening and she'd been captivated by him – such a _powerful_ man – but she supposed Adelaide might have a point. The teensiest point. Andromeda had been behaving dangerously since their first truly personal interaction.

"You were at work when he took you in that storeroom, correct?" Adelaide Accioed over a glass of gillywater, as she usually did during these sessions, and sipped the water as she awaited an answer. Finally, Andromeda nodded.

"But _I_ was the aggressor. You cannot blame him for responding. I am... not unattractive... and I practically threw myself at him. He is but a man, as he told me later when expressing regret over... over _how_ we were first together."

This was true; he'd often expressed remorse regarding the 'how,' but at the same time, it had only been a few months ago that he'd shagged her on the desk in his office at the Ministry when she'd stopped by on her off day to bring him lunch. Just as it had been at St. Mungo's they started by talking, then barely touching, and then kissing and shagging and losing all sense of propriety or reason as they gave in to their physical needs, despite knowing how wrong it was in such a setting.

"I do not blame him for responding in the storeroom. You deserve equal blame for what should not have happened. It was unprofessional behavior for both of you – he was working at that time too. But the way he was so quick to use you as a source for his own pleasure, not only then but more recently, makes me wonder whether he truly respects you."

"He respects me!" Fury flashed wildly through Andromeda's heavy lidded dark eyes as she leapt from her seat, rounding on the Healer; in that moment she looked almost as mad as Bellatrix. "How dare you suggest he doesn't! It's archaic to think a man can't respect a woman simply because she's willing to fuck him... willing to fuck him for the sheer pleasure of it, on a whim, without promise of commitment or... or... I have, in my lifetime, behaved as a whore would, but I was never _his_ whore! Anything physical between us was mutually desired and–"

"I apologize." Healer Smelthwick held up her hands in defeat, a pained expression on her face. She waited for Andromeda to settle back in her chair. "I should not have worded that quite that way. My worry is more that his early interactions with you may have been myopically motivated. Not exactly selfish, but short-sighted, and not necessarily purposely so. I do believe he was as captivated with you as you say he's claimed, and I do believe he found you attractive from your first conversation in his office four years ago. But I cannot help comparing him to your sister's husband..."

Andromeda pulled a face. "Rodolphus?" The Healer couldn't be serious!

"No," she replied, looking surprised. "Not him, Severus. Could you envision _Severus_ encouraging Narcissa to say yes to the offer of a glass of champagne? Could you envision him telling her that one won't harm her? Does he drink with her at night in front of a fireplace when tea would suffice? Does he order wine for her at restaurants when she could just as easily ask for sparkling water or a fizzy drink?"

"Severus doesn't even permit cooking sherry in their home," Andromeda admitted. She and Narcissa had had many a conversation about the man's insistence that she not even order fish in a white wine sauce when they were out, which bothered Cissy as it made her feel like a child incapable of making her own decisions... but to keep the peace she did not order fish in a white wine sauce, and she did not keep cooking sherry in the home, and she wouldn't have 'just one' champagne, and she'd managed to hold onto her sobriety without a single slip up in the years since their short-term stint in this facility together. Severus took great care to ensure that.

"Kingsley isn't like Severus. He respects me... he respects me _more_ than Severus does Cissy!" Andromeda tossed her hair haughtily, like a know-it-all teenager, almost coaxing a bemused smile from the Healer. "Kingsley respects my right to make my own decisions. That's why he didn't confront me when he knew where I was going, what I was doing. He said he wanted to give me the chance to tell him myself, to do so on my own terms, he said as much shortly after I was admitted!"

"No, he ignored your addiction until it had completely taken over your life and, thanks to Teddy's terrified plea for help, could be ignored no longer."

"You're making him sound like a terrible man!" Andromeda was completely aghast. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a wonderful man, one she did not deserve, one she believed - until recently - could do no wrong. He was beloved as Minister, a powerful wizard, a considerate and charismatic person. He had been letting her be independent, letting her live her own life on her own terms, not ignoring her addiction. Not... not... Damn it.

"Andromeda, please..."

"No! Listen, witch. You have him all wrong. He is not a terrible man! He is a wonderful man, powerful and handsome and intelligent and... and better than I deserve, and..."

"And what he did a fortnight ago was reprehensible."

"AUGH!" Andromeda slammed her hand down on the arm of the chair in frustration. She hated this, hated hearing the Healer say negative things about him, hated even thinking negative things about him, despite how angry she'd been and the awful things she'd said before throwing him out. "I bloody started it! I threw myself at him, I begged him to fuck me, I assured him we wouldn't get caught, I–"

"You are not currently being held to the same standard he is! You're _here_ , for Circe's sake! You are not currently of sound mind and judgment, whereas he should have known better. The rules here are clear and they exist for good reason. He acted both selfishly and inconsiderately, and then for him to have told you afterward–"

"He _loves_ me!" Andromeda cut her off, sounding on the edge of hysterics.

"I do not doubt that he does, but _Merlin_ , Andromeda, he had you followed for _months_ , he _knew_ you were having sex with a dangerous criminal for drugs, he knew you were drinking to the point of passing out, he knew it was not safe to keep your grandson in your care and he did _nothing_ about this, _nothing_ until Teddy – _Teddy, a five-year-old child!_ – forced his hand! For how long would he have let it go on if Teddy hadn't begged for help? If Teddy hadn't thought you were dead? For how long did he intend to let you prostitute yourself to get high, endangering your life with every injection? For how long was he going to continue ordering wine and champagne for you knowing you were going home and getting pissed on a nightly basis? And then, to have come here and..."

"He had me followed because he was worried about me! He–"

"Was he? Or was he worried about _himself?_ Was he worried about how your actions were damaging you, or was he worried about how word of your actions getting out might damage him?"

"He's not like that!" Her nose twitched. She reached up to remove the glasses again, fiddling with the frames, afraid tears would be coming next. It wasn't that she hadn't thought the same thing. She'd thought it a thousand times since he admitted he'd been having her followed, but each time she tried to push it out of her mind, each time she forced herself to forget how it felt to realize he knew what she'd been doing, and he hadn't done a damn thing.

"He _loves_ me," she insisted, her voice quivering. "He says I'm beautiful. He says I don't look at all like my sister. He says I almost make him want children. He says I fascinate him. He says he can talk to me for hours and hours and not get bored. He says he wants to marry me – or, he _did_. He... he... he says..." Her hands were shaking so hard she had to set the eyeglasses down on the arm of her chair, afraid she might accidentally snap them in two. Weakly, desperately, she concluded, " _He loves me."_

"I do not doubt that all of those things are true. He _does_ love you, you _are_ beautiful, I, too, could talk to you for hours, and, had you accepted his proposal, I'm certain you'd be married by now. But knowing how to run the Ministry and run the country is quite different from knowing how to..." She paused, knowing it was imperative to choose her next words carefully. "From knowing how to be in love with an addict, with an alcoholic, with a person in pain. Every time he offered you a glass of wine or champagne and reassured you one wouldn't matter, he was hurting you. Every time he looked the other way despite knowing what you were doing with Rowle and with the substance Rowle gave you, he was hurting you. Every time he had a house-elf to check in on Teddy because he knew you couldn't manage but chose not to confront you, he was hurting you. That _inaction_ hurt you. That _enabling_ hurt you. And when he came here and... and he took you to bed, despite your fragile state..."

"I told him I wanted to!"

Adelaide shook her head. Her next words came out with a harshness her patient had not yet heard from her.

"Andromeda, he was _hurting_ you."

"He didn't set out to hurt me! He wanted me because I wanted him and because he loves me." She slammed her hands down on the arms of the chair again, punctuating each sorry sentence, as if she needed the sting against her palms to make her words hold water. "He loves me, he _loves_ me, _he loves me!"_

"Yes, I know, he loves you. But _at what cost_?"

Andromeda stood; the familiar need to pace and pull out her hair was overwhelming. In the Healer's presence, she could only do one of the two, thus she stalked back and forth across the too-narrow room like a circus tiger with no way out that didn't require the mauling of the ringmaster. She closed her eyes and envisioned yanking from her head not strands, but fistfuls of hair, letting them fall to the floor, rubbing at the small bald spot hidden by her hair in the back. She wanted to tear apart the room just to put it back together. She wanted to drink... to drink and drink and drink until the room went dark and all was well.

She wanted to put a needle in her arm and float away.

She wanted this session to be over.

The overwhelming urge to do something, anything, destructive grew and grew, like an itch that couldn't be scratched, or like a much-needed orgasm that would never be reached no matter how long you fucked for it, and finally, when she could stand this bubbling brewing blistering frustration no more, she screamed and slammed her hand against the window. She slammed her hand so hard that when she pulled it back, she could only cradle it in the other and check for broken bones. The skin was red and her palm was throbbing, but there appeared to be no permanent damage. She tried to scream again but all that came from her mouth was a choked sob. She placed her injured palm against the cool glass too soothe the sting and slowly slumped to the floor, shoulders shaking. WHY had he let this go on so long, if he knew what she was doing? WHY hadn't he intervened sooner? WHY had he stopped saying he loved her when she turned down his proposal last August? And WHY had he resumed saying it once she'd been admitted here?

He always called her perfection and she thought of him as the same, but what if he wasn't? What if perfection did not exist?

What if he just wasn't the man she'd mentally built him up to be?

"You hate him," she whispered once she had regained the ability to speak.

"I don't." Adelaide's voice was calm now, and calming. Though it tugged at her heartstrings to watch any patient suffer, she felt an inexplicable connection to this one, perhaps because the circumstances surrounding her situation were simply so tragic, her losses so great, her childhood so privileged and yet rotten. Adelaide had her own difficult childhood as the witch daughter of witchcraft-fearing Muggle parents, thus, on some level, she could relate. But she had her daughter and her new baby granddaughter, and she had a happy marriage, and they'd all made it through the war entirely unscathed.

"You do," Andromeda insisted. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and pressed her cheek to her kneecap, staring toward the Healer from the floor under a curtain of unwashed, unbrushed, untamed (but still shoulder-length) curly hair. "I love him but you hate him and you think I should hate him."

"No, I don't. I promise, I don't. I like him, actually. I like him as a person and as a Minister. I've met him on several occasions, both inside this facility and out. I think he is, at his core, a decent man who strives to do what is right, including by you, but with some spectacular failings that I cannot help wondering..." She couldn't help wondering whether he'd kept Andromeda's condition quiet for her wellbeing, or for his own, but thought it best not to say so again. "Andromeda, forgive me for giving relationship advice, as that's outside my usual capacity as an Emotional Healer, but if you and he are going to be together after you leave here, I am of the opinion that joint therapy sessions would be necessary to ensure not only your success as a couple, but your success as a clean, sober witch who doesn't hate the person she sees in the mirror."

"I don't see her much in the mirror anymore. Not since Cissy cut my hair." She turned and knelt, looking at herself in the reflection of the windowpane. She wished she'd straightened her hair today.

"I don't think you hated your reflection _only_ because you saw her in the mirror. I think you hated seeing yourself just as much, but was easier to blame her than it would be to face that truth."

"Why?" Andromeda choked out the word, her hands clutched to her heart as if the question was going to hurt physically as much as it would emotionally. "Why do you suppose I hate myself so very much? Why can't I stop?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Healer Adelaide Smelthwick stood and went to her patient's side, both kneeling and facing out the window over the courtyard. "Your self-loathing runs deep, and for the life of me I cannot understand why. I've heard everything you've said, I know you feel guilty over having had that affair when you were married, and I know it hurt your sense of self-worth over the years to prostitute yourself when you felt there was no other choice, and I realize you still grapple with unresolved issues regarding your relationship with your parents. Your pain over losing your husband and daughter makes perfect sense to me, your remorse over having failed Teddy over this last year is reasonable, and I even comprehend why you feel your perceived inadequacies and past actions make you 'not good enough' for Minister Shacklebolt, though I disagree with you assessment. But this deep-seated self-loathing, Andromeda! Where does it come from? When did it start? How can we rid you of it?"

"What if we can't?"

"This week, each night before bed, I want you to sit down and write another letter. A long letter. I want you to add at least one sufficient paragraph per night, and I'd like it very much if we could read it together next Thursday. No, Saturday. Take the extra time. Nine nights, at least nine paragraphs, more if possible. Do you think you can manage another letter?"

"To whom?" Andremeda glanced to her side, making eye contact with the Healer. She almost wanted to ask the woman for a hug, but she hated hugs. She let her shoulder brush against the Healer's instead and averted her eyes back to the window. "I've already written Bella, Cissy, my mother, Kingsley – not that I'll share it with him – and to Teddy and Nymphadora and Ted. Who else is there to write to?"

"You."

"What?" Andromeda chuckled, but there was no mirth in her laugh. "You want me to write a letter to myself?"

"I want you to write to answer a different question each night. Shall I write them down for you? At least a paragraph, more if you can manage it."

"What sorts of questions?"

Healer Smelthwick wriggled her wand. The quill stopped scratching along parchment. She stood, stretched, and returned to her chair, then there was the rustling of papers, and the scritches started again.

"Tonight, your earliest childhood memory, no matter how vague. Tomorrow, one childhood memory in which you felt happy and one in which you felt sad or scared. Saturday, I want you to reflect upon the first time you remember purposely hurting yourself, regardless of how minor it seemed or how young you were. The next night..."

Adelaide Smelthwick went on and on, listing a different prompt for each night, as the quill put them down on parchment for Andromeda's reference. By the time she reached the last two – "describe in detail everything you hate about yourself and why" and "an exploration of your positive qualities to cover at least as much parchment as the preceding prompt's response" Andromeda felt dizzy and drained.

"And do not skimp on the bad so you can slack off on the good," ordered Healer Smelthwick as she tore off the parchment to leave with her patient.

"Do you truly think Kingsley is bad for me? Do you think he hurts me?"

"I don't believe his intention is to hurt you. I do believe he loves you. But I also wonder what his experience with addiction has been, whether he's known anyone – aside from you – with alcohol issues or the like. I am firmly of the opinion that any relationship between you only has a chance of success if he supports your sobriety the way Severus Snape has your sister's. And, frankly, I'd like to speak with him myself the next time he comes here."

"You think he'll come here again?"

"He's called on my superior via Floo every bloody day since you had him thrown out, wanting to know your progress."

"He has?" Andromeda pulled herself up from the floor, but instead of returning to her chair she settled cross-legged on the bed. "But you wanted me to think he doesn't love me!"

"No, I wanted you to consider that he isn't _good_ for you. At least, not at the present time. And I want you to have a thorough discussion with him in the near future regarding why he took so long to intervene. I want you to realize that he is not a god among men, just as I want you to realize that your identity should not be wrapped up in the few times you've traded sex for goods or financial gain. You put him on a pedestal while confining yourself to the gutter, and you act as though you should be honored that he wants you, as if you haven't got just as much to offer as he does - and as if he doesn't have his own flaws. You love that he calls you perfection because you want to believe it, but you don't believe it, and you look to him as if he's perfection when he is just as human as the rest of us."

"So when I'm released, we can still have lots and lots of absolutely wonderful semi-public sex that I can brag about to my boring, married sister?"

Healer Smelthwick chuckled. "You are too much, Andromeda Tonks."

"And I can't drink again ever? Not even a sip of champagne to toast finally being released from this hell?"

"Your session is over and I am leaving before you make me want to throw something at you." Smiling, she placed the parchment with the list on the end of the bed. "You've come a long way. I shall see you on Saturday."

After the Healer left to see her next patient of the day, Andromeda read through the list twice, rolled it up, and placed it in her side table drawer to deal with later. Her mind was still reeling from the exhausting therapy session; she wasn't certain she could handle taking a trip down childhood's memory lane at the moment. Instead, as she so often did during her rehabilitation downtime, she thought about Kingsley.

She hadn't liked much of what Healer Smelthwick had said, but she couldn't deny that it made sense. He wasn't infallible simply because he'd been elected Minister for Magic and looked great naked, and she wasn't nothing but a whore simply because she'd - at the lowest points in her life - had sex in exchange for profit.

She had indeed been the one to make the first move when he'd come to her room two weeks ago. She'd wrapped her arms around his neck and breathed in the clean cotton scent of his shirt, and kissed his lips, and told him how much she'd missed him during the weeks he'd been away, traveling in his official capacity as Minister.

"I missed you, too," he'd said, holding her close.

"You're dressed like a Muggle!" she'd grinned up at him. "An Oxford jumper? You laughed at my Oxford t-shirt!"

"Your shirt was long enough to be a dress. Mine is a Cricket jumper, and they're what middle-aged Muggle men looking to reclaim their youth wear out to sporting events."

"Were you at a sporting event, my middle-aged non-Muggle?" She kissed the center of his chest.

"Yes, and came straight here once it ended. I was with the Muggle Prime Minister, same man I used to protect during the war, before Voldemort took the Ministry. Dull game, Cricket. Give me Quidditch over it any day."

"I like you in this." She kissed the blue logo over the left side of his chest, over his heart, and inhaled deeply. "I love the way you smell."

"I love the way you taste." He kissed her lips again, briefly sucking on the bottom one. "Cherries?"

"Cherry lip balm. You like it?"

"I like it."

Then they'd sat on the bed, as they'd done before, and they'd snogged awhile, as they'd done before, and then she'd asked him to make love to her, as she'd asked him before...

But before, he'd always said no.

"The weeks without seeing you were long," he said, cupping her cheek with his hand. His palm was smooth, soft. He must have been using that lotion she bought him for Christmas with the intention of moisturizing away the callouses caused by holding his wand. She practically purred at his touch, having grown desperate for affection during her time in this facility, despite not being an overly affectionate person in general. She missed falling asleep intertwined with Kingsley. She missed cuddling her dear little Teddy. She even missed the hugs from her sister that she swatted away and made sarcastic comments about.

"I cannot wait to get out of here," she whispered, bringing her hand up the front of his jumper against the soft cotton tee he wore underneath. "We'll spend the night together in my bed. I'll kiss you everywhere and touch you in all the places you like best, and I'll let you finish wherever you want to, and..."

"And I'll worship your body and tell you I love you and not let you go until morning," he said, making her blush as he'd gone in a much less dirty direction than she had.

"Where did you go these two weeks? Nearly three. It's been near on three weeks."

"All over Europe. France, Germany, Austria, Belgium..." He was touching her as he talked, almost absentmindedly, as if he didn't realize he was doing it. His hands ran down her arms, up the backs of her thighs, across her abdomen, over her breast, to side of her neck. "Meeting after meeting after meeting, and dreadfully dull social engagements, and Muggle sporting events, and restaurants with cuisine too elevated for my humble taste. Will you make me cottage pie once you're home?"

"I'll make you cottage pie and bread pudding and all the lovely things you like to eat." One of his hands was on her hip. She slid it between her legs, over the facility-issued cotton pajamas. "What is your favorite taste, Kingsley?"

"Cherries," he answered just before his lips captured hers. He rubbed her down there as they resumed snogging, and before long she was on her back with him beside her, and they were exploring each other with their hands, and breathing hard, and growing far too aroused than was allowed under such circumstances.

"The door is locked," she whispered. "You're the Minister for Magic; they respect your position too much to barge in. We can do it quickly; we don't even have to fully undress. I need you, Kingsley. I need you. Please."

"It's been months since we..." he groaned as she stroked his semi-hardness through the material of his Muggle trousers. "Too long..."

"Far too long. I want you, I want to feel you."

"Andromeda..." he groaned again, and she winced as he grabbed her sex roughly, though she didn't dislike it. "I'll touch you and that's all..."

"Yes," she murmured as his hand slipped down the front of her pajamas and into her knickers, as his fingers began massaging the swelling bud between her folds. "Yes, touch me, touch me like that."

"So wet for me," he groaned into her ear, making her pulse quicken. He rarely talked to her this way, but she loved it. "Why are you so wet for me?"

"Because I love you," she gasped, lifting her hips, practically pulsating for him. "Because you love me. Because I need you."

"Do you taste like cherries here, too?" He slid a finger inside her, eliciting from her a breathy moan. "Shall I find out?"

"Please... please, yes, please..."

He sat up, tore off the jumper, and tossed it to the chair. She wanted to bury her face into his white cotton undershirt, to breathe in his scent, but before she could reach for him he was positioning himself midway down the bed. She removed her pajama top - it was suddenly too damn hot in the room - leaving on her bra, as he shimmied the bottoms far enough down her legs to grant him access to her glistening sex.

"I've missed you," he said, just before his tongue made contact with her throbbing clit. He licked and fingered and pleasured her until she was bucking and biting her wrist to keep from crying out. Out loud he considered finishing her off this way, then going to the loo to take care of himself, but she begged him again to make love to her.

When his mouth met hers in a searing kiss, she could taste herself on his tongue. Most decidedly not like cherries, but it was clear he didn't care, so neither did she. He was inside her, finally, blissfully, as they quickly found their rhythm, rocking together, clutching each other as if for dear life. She hit her peak as he was deepening his thrusts, and the spastic thrum of her quim sent him over the edge as well.

He stayed on top of her for only a matter of moments, though she would have been content to keep him close forever. He crawled from the bed, fixing his clothes as she was doing too, and staring guiltily down at her.

"We should not have done that."

"Why not?"

"You know why not." He pressed his palms to his eye sockets and took several deep, slow breaths. "My judgment was clouded, I should not have... Merlin's beard... I'm sorry, Andromeda. I am sorry. I could not be more sorry."

"Sorry, why? Because relations aren't allowed here? I'm not a sex addict, Kingsley, I'm a -"

But her voice broke off. She'd looked into his eyes. She'd looked into his eyes and in his post-coital state, and in his guilt, he'd let his guard down, and thanks to Legilimency she'd just seen something she shouldn't have... the real reason he was apologizing.

"Merlin's beard," she whispered, borrowing the phrase he'd just used. Her brow furrowed, her dark eyes filled with hurt, her lips parted as if in disbelieve. "Kingsley, you didn't."

"I am sorry, Andromeda. I am."

"How many times?"

"We didn't mean for it to happen."

"How many times?" She exited the bed, straightening her pajama top as she did so, waffling between feeling like she might vomit and like she might cry. "How many times? And when? And... and..."

"While we were away on Ministry business. It was nothing. It meant nothing." He backed toward the door. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was intimidated by her in this moment. If she'd had her wand, he'd have been smart to be scared.

In that flash, thanks to Legilimency, she'd seen what he was really apologizing for. Over his nearly three week Ministry trip abroad with his assistant, he'd fallen into bed with the woman multiple times.

Multiple.

"Does she still love you?" Andromeda asked, pain dripping from each word. He and his assistant, Hestia Jones, a fellow former Auror, had broken up years before because she wanted children and he did not. She was engaged now, but still childless. And he was...

"I don't believe she does."

He was cheating on Andromeda.

"Do you still love her?"

"Not at all."

He was being genuine in that, anyway. She could sense it and he was making no attempt to employ Occlumency.

"How many times did you sleep with her?" She could hardly get the sentence out thanks to the stabbing sensation in her heart. It would have hurt less for him to put a literal knife through the center of her chest. "How many times?"

"Only four."

"Only?"

"Only four times in eighteen nights."

"Oh, well that's not so many then. How good of you to control yourself on the other fourteen. Would you like a biscuit?" Bitterness and anger were taking over, necessary to drown out the raw suffering enveloping her from within.

"It was a mistake." He held up his hands as if being threatened by Aurors, as if he'd been told to drop his wand and put his fingertips to the sky.

"Four mistakes."

"Her relationship is falling apart. She was lonely."

"And you were... what? Unable to resist her advances?"

"I hadn't had sex since -"

"Since when? Since you were last with me, not two months ago?"

"More than two months ago."

"Ten weeks ago? You were so hard up for it after ten weeks of abstinence you had no choice but to fuck her four times while I'm languishing here reliving my rotten childhood, coming to terms with the fact that my sister murdered my child, hating myself for having hurt you because you don't deserve to hurt as I've hurt even though you're hurting me and... and..." Bloody hell, the tears were rising up again, threatening to spill over. No. No, she didn't want tears, she wouldn't succumb to sadness. She wanted anger. She wanted him to hurt too.

"I love you, Andromeda, and I-"

"Fuck you. Fuck you, Kingsley."

"I don't mean to be cruel, Andromeda..." (The flash of anger in his eyes warned her that his next words would not be kind.) "But as you so vehemently reminded me some six weeks ago, you spent months fucking another man behind my back, going directly from his bed to mine, letting him use you as one would a common whore, and I've forgiven you as I realize you were in a bad mental state and therefore made a mistake. Well, I've made mistakes too, and one was that I was tired of being alone, I had a few drinks, and I fell into bed with an old friend. Is that so unforgivable?"

"I never did it because I wanted to! I derived no pleasure from what I felt forced into! It wasn't a tryst for me, something familiar and satisfying that I did for my own selfish pleasure, whereas you-"

"What are you playing at? You're no bloody martyr." Though he was angry, he managed to keep his voice down, his tone low. "It's not as if you prostituted yourself to feed your starving child. You most certainly did do it for your own selfish pleasure - the pleasure of leaving his side with a needle full of poison to inject into your veins!"

"How could you have sex with me today, just now, knowing what you've been doing with her, knowing I was bound to find out?" She was shouting now, advancing on him. "How could you be so selfish?"

"Selfish?" he scoffed. "You wanted to-"

"You used me!"

"I did no such thing!"

"You're just like every other man, you only care about one thing, women are only of use to you for one purpose, and-"

"How can you accuse me of that?" Now, again, he sounded angry. "You know me, you know that it's true."

She did know him. But in that moment, he wasn't him, he wasn't the man she knew. He was every man, every man who'd ever hurt her or used her or lied to her, every man who'd seen her as nothing but an easy fuck unworthy of respect or consideration.

"You don't bloody care about me at all!" She shoved him back toward the wall. "You think because I was a whore for him, I'm the same for you, to be used up and discarded, to be-"

"Stop it!" He grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her firmly. "I don't think that way and you know it."

"You came here knowing how broken I am, knowing you'd been shagging that slag behind my back, knowing-"

"She's not a slag, Andromeda." He released her. "We had a few drinks and got carried away. We were both feeling-"

"Fuck how you were feeling!"

"If you continue to speak to me this way, I will leave. I will leave and not come back, I swear it, Andromeda. I know you're angry, but if you're incapable of conversing with me in a calm, dignified way..."

"Excuse me for being undignified! We're not all of your impeccable breeding, higher education, and social stature, Minister. Some of us dropped out of school, developed a drinking habit, and took to blowing blokes for galleons at a young age."

"I cannot handle you when you're like this, woman."

"How was she? Was she better than I am?"

"Stop it."

"She's younger than I am. She's younger than you by what? A decade? And you're younger than me by seven years. She could be my child. Is that why you were with her? You wanted a younger woman? One less damaged?"

"I wanted something easy!" He threw up his hands. "Is that what you want to hear? Yes, I wanted a woman less damaged, just for a night - and a night turned into four nights - and I enjoyed it because it was easy!"

"You don't think I'm easy? I shagged you in a bloody storeroom while-"

"I did not say _she_ was easy. I said _being with her_ was easy. You're... being with you isn't easy, Andromeda, it's never been! Sometimes you stop me touching you to tell me why I shouldn't want you, sometimes you seem to shut off halfway through sex. Sometimes you drink too much, but if you haven't had any to drink at all, you're so high strung and uptight I can hardly touch you. I love you, I _genuinely_ love you, but you are the most confusing, infuriating, exhausting woman I've ever been to bed with!"

There was a long pause during which they simply stared each other down. His expression remained one of guilt, but also relief, as clearly he'd wanted to say at least some of that for a long time, whereas she was blank faced and dead-eyed, almost worryingly so.

"Why do it, then? What's in it for you? Why keep coming back? Let's assess, shall we? I'm older than you are, I can't give you children, I've shagged another man behind your back, I'd rather get high than go to work, I'm an awful grandmother, and I'm clearly happiest staring down the bottom of a bottle! I've got bad blood, I've got small breasts, I've got nothing to offer you besides sex, which you can get much more easily from that cunt Hestia Jones."

"I hate it when you talk that way."

"You hate it when I talk that way, you hate it when I act this way... So tell me, oh great Kingsley Shacklebolt, of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Minister for Magic and friend to all Muggleborns: if I'm so maddeningly difficult, why do you want me?"

"At this moment, to be honest, I have no idea," he answered, finally losing his temper. "I tell myself it's because I love you, but sometimes I can't help but think you're not a good enough fuck to be worth all this trouble."

The anger in his expression was immediately replaced by abject horror, as if he couldn't believe his own words. He opened his mouth, presumably to apologize, but before he could do so she drew back her hand and brought it across his cheek as hard as she could.

"Ow, Circe's song, Andromeda!" He caught her hand as she brought it back to slap him again, which prompted her to hit his chest several times with her free fist. He wrestled her arms down, turning her body so her back was to his chest, and held her wrists, pressing them against her breasts.

"If I had my wand, I would Crucio you!" she shouted, completely losing what little reasonability she had left as the dam broke and hot tears cascaded down her splotchy cheeks. "I would do you worse than my sister did Alice and Frank! I would watch you writhe on the floor in pain until your mind was too melted to fucking function!"

It was during this tirade that three Healers burst in, including Adelaide Smelthwick.

"What is happening in here?" she demanded. Kingsley shook his head sadly, but did not release his grip on struggling Andromeda.

"She is out of control, I'm afraid," he said calmly. "She needs help. Perhaps a sedative."

"I don't need a fucking sedative! Now let me go so I can hit you!"

"I'll do no such thing."

"Make him leave! Make him go, Adelaide! I can't have him here! Make him leave!"

"Andromeda, please, calm yourself," he said, but his words had the opposite effect as had been intended.

She shook with sobs, suddenly unable to independently stand. He slowly lowered her to the floor as she continued to plead, "Make him go. Make him leave!"

"Minister, perhaps it is best if you step out, now," said one of the other Healers gently, as Adelaide Smelthwick knelt by Andromeda's side.

"Please, sir," said the third Healer. She took him by the arm, coaxing him toward the door. "Come with me. She'll be alright."

He glanced back as Healer Smelthwick was tipping a vial of potion - a Calming Draught - into Andromeda's mouth, encouraging her to swallow.

"It's alright," the Healer was saying, as she gently rubbed Andromeda's back with her free hand. "It's alright. It's alright."

The door was closed, and that was the last they'd seen of each other.

Until he arrived during visiting hours on Saturday, the last day of Week Ten.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry, but you have to wait until Week 11 to see what happened during Kingsley's visit in Week 10. Please don't be too angry with him... or with her! It's a... stressful time. For all involved. Only two full weeks left of rehab, though, and though progress is slow going, there IS progress. Thank you so much for those continuing to read and those who have added to Follows or Faves, and especially to those who reviewed Chapter Nine: **PopularCats, sassanech, Banglabou, emrldapplejuice, KnowInsight, FrancineHibiscus, Mad Hatter** , and **somethingnew2016.** As always, I hugely appreciate it!

 **-AL**


	11. Part One: Week 11

**A/N:**

 **TRIGGER WARNING**

 **I don't usually like TW's mid-fic as I think they can end up being spoilers, but putting one here for referenced child abuse of a minor character. If this bothers you, please skip down about a third of the way through the chapter.**

(Also, I just updated yesterday, so if you didn't read Chapter 10 yet go to that one first.)

 **Thanks!**

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

 **END OF WEEK 11**

All week, Dorcas Kensington had been sitting at Andromeda's usual round table nearest the windows for meals. Typically, it was only the two of them, though Lavender Brown joined them for dinner on the days Healers could convince her to leave her room. Aside from a polite "how do you do" followed by, "quite well, thank you, and you?" the women spoke little.

It was a Friday during dinner when Dorcas settled herself to Andromeda's right rather than across from her. She inched her chair close, poked her cottage pie with her fork, and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "They've written vicious things about you in the Daily Prophet."

"I know," said Andromeda, her voice wooden. The story had broken in that morning's edition. MINISTER ROMANCES ADDICT: Shacklebolt Regularly Visits Alleged Prostitute in Private Rehabilitation Facility, complete with a picture of the two of them in the courtyard. An anonymous source had both provided the moving photograph and several quotes about her behavior since she'd been admitted, including referencing both of her trips to St. Mungo's and the indiscretion with the male nurse. It referred to her as combative and spoiled, entitled, difficult, and standoffish. The source additionally accused her of having received special privileges on account of who her lover was, and even detailed how Kingsley was paying the exorbitant cost, while her sister's large donation had been enough to get her readmitted after a supposed suicide attempt. It laid out her recent history with Thorfinn Rowle, including his arrest and Harry Potter's directive that his Aurors not say anything about the situation to anyone outside their office, and even nephew Draco's success in initially keeping her name out of the papers. It painted her as a callous benefactor of nepotism and old pureblood money and suggested she had started using to combat the ennui of post-war life and the headache of raising a child that wasn't hers.

It was indeed vicious.

"And what's most irritating is that the worst parts are true." Andromeda swirled her meat and potatoes together. "So I can't even bring a defamation case against them, though I'm certain my sister Narcissa will try."

"It _is_ true then?" Dorcas' blue eyes widened. "It's true that you've been a... a _prostitute?"_

"Why are you asking?" Andromeda stabbed aggressively at her food, not at all hungry. Not only had the Prophet article positively sickened her, but they were serving Kingsley's favorite of all the meals she regularly made him, the one he'd requested for when she came home. Why couldn't they be having fish tonight?

"I'm only wondering because..." Dorcas focused intently on her own plate, not even daring to glance at Andromeda. She, too, was not interesting in eating. "Because..."

"Because you'd like to be their next Anonymous Source?"

"No!" The clang of Dorcas's fork falling onto the table made several nearby patients glance up, but seeing no further commotion, they quickly returned to their own meals. "No, it's just that... I... you... the Minister for Magic, he dates you, doesn't he?"

"They reported that he does."

"And he knows... about you? He dated you despite knowing?"

"He... he continued to date me after he knew, yes." Andromeda shot the girl a side glance, trying to read her, but not wanting to intrude by using Legilimency to do so.

"So it's possible, then." Dorcas let out a tiny breathy sigh as some of the tension in her always hunched shoulders dissipated. "It's _possible."_

"Possible? For what?" She regarded the girl carefully, mentally recalling all she knew of the girl from their time together thus far. Dorcas Kensington was nineteen-years-old, estranged from her family, and easily reduced to tears. She had been sexually abused in the past, was painfully shy, and had been the one caught on her knees for that male nurse. She had long strawberry blonde hair worn down, which she twirled around her finger during Group Therapy, she was naturally tan, and she had freckles spanning from one cheek to the other across the bridge of her nose. She was always slumped or slouched, she ducked her head when she spoke, and loud noises made her flinch. Andromeda assumed she was used to getting hit by someone, as she seemed jumpy in the way Druella Black had been whenever her husband got angry with her, like she knew the abuse was forthcoming, but wasn't sure when.

"I was a pros... a _prostitute..._ too. For a long time. And I... I used to dream about meeting a boy, a young man, one who would take me away and want to marry me and treat me... better... but Mum said boys don't marry girls like me, women like us. She said that's not what we're good for. But you, the Prophet says you've been... you've done... like me..." A deep blush crept into the girl's cheeks. She still couldn't look at Andromeda. "And yet you've got... you're with... I mean... he's not just some boy, he's the _Minister for Magic._ So if a... a you-know... can end up with _him,_ maybe... maybe, someday, there'll be a nice boy, and I..."

"Bloody hell, Dorcas. You're practically still a child! For how long were you a prostitute?"

"For forever." She sniffled as a single tear made its way down her cheek. "I've been wanting to talk with you for a long time, Mrs. Tonks, because I'd heard... rumors... about you. And for... other reasons, too. But I was afraid."

"Why? Why did you want to talk with me, and why be afraid?" Andromeda didn't add that she'd wanted to talk to the girl for probably just as long, but had lost the motivation to do so somewhere down the line.

"Your sister... I met her once." Now Dorcas' whisper had dropped so low Andromeda had to strain to hear her, despite their close proximity. "I know this will sound awful, and I'm sorry, but Mrs. Lestrange was my... she was my hero."

"Bellatrix?" Andromeda's stomach churned. What kind of witch was this young girl, anyway? Was she a supporter of Lord Voldemort? Had she turned to addiction to cope after his defeat?

"I don't believe in blood purity or any of that rubbish!" clarified Dorcas, correctly interpreting Andromeda's expression, though she quickly directed her gaze bak at her plate. "I grew up thinking I was a Squib because that's what Mum told me, but I could do a bit of magic. I showed her when I was small and she hit me for it, she told me Squibs can't do magic and we shouldn't embarrass ourselves by trying. She hit me a lot, for a lot of things, but always hardest for showing magical ability. I feared her, but at the same time, I was desperate to someday prove I wasn't a Squib, so I kept practicing in secret, using a broken stick as a wand, even though I knew it was silly."

Dorcas let her hair hide her eyes, just as Andromeda so often had. Unable to stop herself, the elder woman reached up and tucked it behind the girl's ear.

"Mum was a... a _prostitute..._ before I was even born. My father was - well, I don't know who he was, but I'm certain he paid for her, you know? And when I became a woman, she said it was time for me to contribute too, she said she'd been paying for me for too long."

"How old were you?" asked Andromeda, trying to keep the horror from her voice. "When you 'became a woman'?"

"Thirteen years and seven months. And for almost a year I worked, just as she told me to. Evenings, nights, early mornings. I was at the end of Knockturn Alley because they wouldn't let someone my age into the brothel. I was to stand there – there's an alcove, almost another alleyway, off what looks like the dead end there, behind the betting parlor. I was to stand there in the shadows. If someone wanted only a quick – something quick – I'd take him into the alcove. If he wanted to pay more, he could take me to an inn for the night, or to a room off the betting parlor for an hour. Most wizards wanted an hour."

Now Andromeda had really lost her appetite. When she thought of herself on the floor in the Astronomy Tower under Theo Nott, she pictured a baby, a little girl, not yet fifteen, and here this child had been a whole year younger, forced to do Circe Only Knows What with grown wizards in a seedy alleyway. Her hand twitched, in need of her wand. She wanted to hunt down the girl's mother and make her suffer, and then she wanted to hex the bollocks off every man who'd ever paid for her.

"I knew who your sister and her husband were because their faces were everywhere once they'd broken out of Azkaban. One evening, they came down Knockturn Alley. It was December, nearly Christmas, 1997, and I was freezing in a red corset, a thin shawl, and a long skirt. Mr. Lestrange looked at me – sneered, really – and said, 'They get younger every year.' Your sister – Mrs. Lestrange, Bellatrix – she laughed and said, 'No, you're just getting older.' But then she looked at me, and her... her face changed. She looked shocked, then angry, and I felt afraid. He went into the betting parlor and she said she'd be in shortly. She then rounded on me and I nearly wet myself... I mean, no, I didn't, but I _was_ shaking, and not from the cold."

"What did she do to you?" Andromeda placed her fork by her plate, no longer even interested in pretending to care about the meal before her. She turned her body, leaning closer to the whispering witch, who remained hunched forward but hadn't let her hair fall back into her face.

"She grabbed my arm, here." Dorcas mimed digging her nails into her bicep. "It hurt. And she pulled me into the alcove, and she said, 'How old are you?' Her voice was harsh, but I was too frightened _not_ to answer, so I said, 'I'm fourteen, ma'am.' She said, 'You're a child. Why aren't you in school?' I said, 'I've never been to school, ma'am.' She asked, 'Where is your mother?' and I... I couldn't answer. Mum told me I was never to tell anyone about... if I got caught, I mean... I was to swear I had run away and let the Aurors bring me home to her, so she could pretend to have been worried sick."

"This is precisely why I hate women nearly as much as I hate men," said Andromeda. "Please, go on."

"Mrs. Lestrange - Bellatrix - grabbed my other arm so she was holding both, and she told me to look at her. So I did. And it was the most curious thing. She stared directly into my eyes – her eyes were like yours, but yours are... softer, somehow – and then, after what felt like an eternity, she said, 'Your mother turns you out,' but like she knew, not like it was a question. I couldn't confirm, I was too afraid of what Mum would do if she found out, but I started to cry. She asked my name and I told her, then she told me hers though I already knew it. I couldn't stop crying, I felt like such a baby, but she wiped my cheeks with her thumbs and said, 'Your mother is a worthless cunt who doesn't deserve you.'"

Andromeda laughed, startling the girl beside her. "I'm sorry, dear. It's just..." She snickered again. "It's just, 'worthless cunt' was Bella's favorite thing to call our mother, too. But it's been awhile since I heard it said aloud."

"Oh." Dorcas glanced at her, briefly making eye contact, and managed a small smile before averting her gaze back down at her plate and continuing. "Then she said, 'I always wanted a daughter, but I lost my first pregnancy to an abortion when I was young and my second to a miscarriage while in Azkaban. Now it's too late.'"

"She lost a baby in Azkaban?" This was news to Andromeda. Unless Bella had someone managed to become pregnant while inside the prison walls, which was unlikely given her private cell and shackles and the presence of Dementors, she must have been expecting when arrested on the first of November, 1981. Andromeda vaguely wondered if there would be any record of that. She also wondered whether the baby had belonged to her husband, or to the monster who made her his mistress, not that it mattered now.

"She took out a handkerchief and wiped my face and had me blow my nose, like... like a toddler. She said fourteen-year-old girls didn't belong in black eyeliner and red lipstick, and then she handed me the handkerchief, told me to close my eyes, and apparated us."

"She apparated you? To where?"

"To a lovely little wizarding village I'd never seen before, called Hogsmeade. We didn't stay there, though. Night was falling and she said she had somewhere to be, so we had to move quickly. She pulled me along by the wrist until we'd made it to this huge, beautiful castle. I knew straight away it had to be Hogwarts, I'd heard so many stories, I'd even read a book about it called Hogwarts, a History, that I nicked from a fat professor in a bow tie who was buying potions ingredients down the alleyway one afternoon. I asked her, 'What are we doing here?' and she said, 'We're here to see an old friend.' She brought me straight to the office of the Headmaster."

"Albus Dumbledore?" asked Andromeda, forgetting the year in which the girl's tale took place.

"No, Professor Snape. I believe he's... I believe he's now married to you other sister?"

"He is," confirmed Andromeda. "What did Severus say?"

"He told her he did not welcome her intrusion, she told him to..." Dorcas dropped her voice even lower. "To 'sod off,' and then she said, 'This is your new pupil, Dorcas Kensington, age fourteen. She'll need a wand, a bed, textbooks, and a uniform.' He told her she couldn't be bringing in strays off the street, that schools didn't work that way. She said schools exist to educate children and as I was a child, she saw no issue. They went into a room off the office, I could hear them arguing, and when they came back out, he said, 'Very well, Miss Kensington, you may stay.' I was Sorted into Hufflepuff."

"My daughter Nymphadora was in Hufflepuff." Andromeda couldn't stop a wistful smile from forming across her face. "As was my husband, her father."

"I liked it. Yellow's always been my favorite color."

"What about your mother? What did she say when she found out you were in school?"

"I don't know exactly. Mrs. Lestrange told Professor Snape to address any correspondence regarding my education to her and she told me to stay away from boys because they only want 'one thing.' She back pulled my hair - she was standing behind me - so I was facing the ceiling, then kissed me on the forehead, and then she dropped into my lap a pouch with thirty-four galleons she called 'pocket money,' and she left. She didn't say goodbye and I never saw her again, but I received a letter from Mum six days later informing me she 'did not appreciate a visit from the Dark Lord's First Lieutenant' but would allow me to stay. I always assumed Mrs. Lestrange threatened her in some way."

"That sounds like my sister. And that's what made her your hero?"

"Those four months I had at Hogwarts, those were my happiest – that was the best – I never before, or since – I don't know." Dorcas's chin was nearly to her chest. Her nose twitched, and two more tears followed the trail of the one that had fallen before. "I don't know why she cared, and I know everyone talks about how ruthless and mad she was, how she'd kill anyone, even family, if they got in her way, how she delighted in hurting children and torturing people... but how can _I_ hate her? I spent four months learning to perform magic, reading in the library, eating enough to not go to bed hungry, sleeping in a bed of my own, and feeling safe! I wasn't there when she was killed, all of us underage were evacuated, and I used to wish I had been, that I'd gotten to see her again once more, to thank her, but it's probably better that I didn't."

"What happened in September? You didn't return to school?"

"After the Final Battle, Mum pulled me out and put me straight back to work. With Mrs. Lestrange dead, there was no one to tell her not to, I suppose." Dorcas shrugged one shoulder. "But it was _something._ It was how I knew I wasn't a Squib. Once I turned seventeen, I stopped speaking to Mum. Haven't seen her in almost three years. Don't care to, either. She was a... a _worthless cunt,_ like your sister said." Dorcas glanced quickly toward her, almost as if she was afraid to be admonished for this statement. "Do you reckon it's possible to do horrible things but not be a horrible person?"

"I don't know whether you're referring to yourself, your mother, or my sister, but that's a question I've asked myself more times than I can possibly count."

"The Prophet made you sound like a bad person, Mrs. Tonks, but they're wrong. I listen to you in Group Therapy. I hear the way you speak of your daughter, of your grandson. You may have done the things they said, but you're not the person they made you out to be. If you were, the Minister wouldn't be with you. That's what I think, anyway."

"Much of my self-worth over the last two years has been wrapped up in the fact that the Minister for Magic considers _me_ worth caring about, but one thing I've learned here, dear girl, is that others' opinions of me shouldn't influence _my_ opinion of me – and similarly, your hope for the future should not be dependent upon whether a young man will ever fall in love with you."

"You sound like Healer Smelthwick."

The dining room was nearly abandoned now, as patients headed back to their rooms for the evening, or to the social room to play cards or wizards chess or discuss the weather for lack of any better way to pass the time. Andromeda pushed away her practically untouched plate.

"Are you still hungry?"

"No."

"Why don't you come to my room for a chat?"

Dorcas turned her head, finally making full-on eye-contact with Andromeda. Her blue eyes were full of anxiety and lingering tears, but the elder witch's were as kind as they were dark, and after only a moment's hesitation, the girl nodded.

The settled in Andromeda's room with the door open, as was the rule when one patient was in the private (or even shared) room of another. Andromeda requested a chair from the nurses' station so they could sit opposite each other, and to her surprise, when the nurse brought it she had a tray with tea and biscuits hovering behind her.

"I noticed neither of you ate much tonight."

"Thank you." Andromeda placed the tray on her bedside table, which she'd moved to be between the two chairs. Dorcas took one first and gobbled it down quickly; clearly she was hungrier than she'd let on. Or perhaps she simply loved chocolate biscuits.

"I saw him with you in the courtyard last week." Dorcas added two lumps of sugar to her tea, whereas Andromeda took hers with milk only. "I didn't see who took the photograph, but I suspect it was the man who told you off before."

"My sister killed his wife. He's bitter. Hurting."

"I know." Dorcas reached for a second biscuit. "We're all here because we're hurting."

That was, perhaps, the truest thing Andromeda had heard anyone say since she'd been committed. The greater wizarding world looked at them as alcoholics and addicts, space wasters and whores, suicidal deadbeats and drains on society, but really, what they had in common was that they were all in pain, and seeking a way to stop feeling it.

The week before, Saturday, when Kingsley had come back, Andromeda hadn't known how to feel. She was sickened to see him, but also excited, as she thought his departure weeks earlier meant they'd never see each other again. She wanted to run to him, but also to run away, and she wanted to tell him that while what he'd said had hurt her, she couldn't debate his claim that she was the most confusing witch he'd ever met, because confusion was her primary emotion as of late.

They faced each other in the open sunshine of the courtyard, as he was no longer permitted in her room. He looked good, in a blue and purple robe with his Nigerian cap, wearing a small, hopeful smile. She looked good too. She'd carefully straightened her hair and was wearing a pale pink blouse and gray wool skirt that went to mid-thigh, short black boots, no stockings.

"Narcissa told me she cut your hair. I like it."

"You've come back because you wanted to see my hair?"

"No," he said. He reached into his robe and pulled out a copy of the novel Peter Pan. "I've come back because I brought you a gift. They tell me you're ready." He nodded to someone over her shoulder, and before she could ask what he meant by this she heard a small familiar voice shouting from behind her.

"Nana! Nana!"

She swiveled around and dropped to her knees in the grass. There, running toward her in the silliest little Muggle suit, was the light she'd been lacking since her admittance, the person she loved more than anyone else in the world.

"Teddy!"

He didn't stop running until he was in her arms. She kissed him over and over, brushing back his dark brown curls, rubbing their noses together like kittens, checking him over for signs of neglect or injury while all he wanted to do was keep his arms wrapped around her neck so she'd never be able to let him go again.

"My sweet Teddy! You look older, how can you possibly already look older? And oh, this little suit!"

"I hate this suit! Auntie Cissy said it's what the Muggle boys wear. Harry Potter says it makes me look like a prat! Kingsley let me take off the bowtie."

She smiled at Kingsley over the boy's head. 'Thank you,' she mouthed. He smiled back.

"I'll leave you two to your reunion. Healer Smelthwick asked for a word."

For the next two hours, right through her scheduled therapy session, Andromeda played with Teddy. She dueled him using flower stems for wands, chased him around while pretending to be a troll (he was pretending to be Harry Potter), and held him upside down, tickling his tummy the way he liked. When he was starting to get tired, he requested they sit on one of the benches facing a large fountain to cuddle while she read to him from what had been Nymphadora's favorite book as a child. It was the reason Andromeda was Nana and not Grandmother or Gran. Her daughter's favorite character was the sheepdog who cared for the Darling children; Andromeda had tried to be flattered rather than insulted when pregnant Nymphadora told her she'd chosen that title for her.

He crawled into her lap, straddling her thighs with his chest to hers and his cheek resting against the front of her shoulder. By chapter four, he was asleep. She did not know how long the Healers would allow this visit to go, it had been such a long time already, but she wanted to cherish every moment, thus she set the book down, closed her eyes, and simply held him.

"She could see us on Sundays, if you're interested." Kingsley's quiet voice startled Andromeda. Her eyes snapped open. She wasn't sure whether she'd drifted off. Teddy was still snoring lightly in her lap, drooling onto her blouse. His mummy had been a drooler too.

"What?" Andromeda glanced at him momentarily before fixing her gaze on the water running from mouth of a whale in the large, ornate stone fountain across from them.

"If you're interested," he repeated. "She can offer us..." He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. "She can offer us up to two hours of therapy together, jointly, as a couple, per week. On Sundays."

"You would go to couples therapy with me?"

"Healer Smelthwick is a rather persuasive..." He cleared his throat again and started over. "I haven't been lectured like that since I was a sixth year, when a group of us slipped out to explore the Forbidden Forest after curfew only to get lost for two days. When Professor Flitwick and one of the search parties finally found us, we thought he'd be glad we weren't dead, but instead he took House Points and gave us all a stern talking to for about ninety minutes before we were even allowed to clean up and eat something."

"I had no idea you were such a rebel in your younger years," she teased, speaking quietly too, so as not to wake Teddy.

"Healer Smelthwick said I've been enabling you."

She nodded, sucked some of the cherry balm off her lower lip, and wrapped her arms around the little boy in her lap. "How did you respond?"

"I argued, at first. Then, I listened. Eventually, I understood. And she's correct."

"Why?" She looked to him, unsure of what she'd see, hoping the anger and pain he'd worn across his face during their encounter weeks before would not be evident. "Why did you encourage me to drink when you knew I'd had a problem before?"

"I didn't know the scope of your problem before, nor did I... I've never known a..." If it were possible for a sigh to sound anguished, his did. "No one else I've ever been close to has had an issue with alcohol. You went to rehabilitation with Narcissa, she was doing well, you seemed to be doing well, and as I told Healer Smelthwick, I honestly hadn't considered that it might be damaging to imbibe once in awhile, not even when it became a regular occurrence. The way I viewed it, you worked hard, you were raising Teddy, you took care of me, and by the end of the evening, you were tense, stressed, and so we'd have a glass of wine – or two – and you'd relax. And I'd relax. You weren't getting pissed, so I thought..."

"You thought it was fine?" She'd worked hard to ensure he'd thought it was fine, thus she couldn't very well fault him for having fallen for the ruse, but at the same time she couldn't believe he hadn't caught onto her downfall more quickly. For an intelligent man, he could apparently be rather dense.

"I thought, so long as you were in control, and it seemed to benefit you, what was the harm?" He placed his hand on the bench between them, beside hers, but not touching. "You told me before that you used to drink whisky until you fell unconscious, but you weren't doing that, you said you hadn't done that in years. So yes, I thought it was fine. I thought _you_ were fine."

"I wasn't fine." She slid her hand a little closer to his.

"I realize that now." He linked his pinkie finger over hers. "And I realize I should have intervened as soon as I realized you were spiraling out of control. I wish I could give you a good excuse, but excuses are worthless. The fact is, I knew there was a problem and I did nothing, because it was easier to do nothing. I told myself I had good reason, that I was letting you be independent, giving you windows of opportunity in which I hope you'd open up to me, but I was fooling myself."

"You didn't do _nothing_. You had me followed. You had my sister check in on me. You had a house-elf spying on me."

"Not at first. On occasion, I checked in on you at work. I would Floo to St. Mungo's under the guise of being there in an official capacity, but I just wanted to ensure you were at your desk, and if you weren't I sent a house-elf to your home to look in on you, and if you seemed alright..." He shook his head, eyes closed, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on his chest. "I wanted to confront you, but I didn't want you to feel I was trying to control or micromanage you; you said you hated when Ted would do that."

"He started doing it when we reconciled, after my affair. If I was going out, he wanted to know where, with whom, when I'd be back. I hated having my every move scrutinized, but I accepted that it was my own fault for having behaved as I did. I thought he would let up eventually, but..."

"I do not make it a habit to speak ill of the dead, Andromeda, but don't you think he punished you for too long for that?"

She scoffed. "Are you asking because you hope I won't spend the next two decades punishing you for your indiscretion?"

"I am asking because I think twenty years is a long time to hold something over a person's head." He kept his pinkie connected with hers, and leaned across their bodies with his free hand to stroke her cheek. She turned her head, nonverbally rebuking his touch. He dropped that hand back to his lap, but she did not pull her pinkie away from his other hand.

"We're not talking about Ted. We're talking about us."

"I'm sorry. For all of it, for afternoon a few weeks ago, for being with Hestia during my trip, for the entire six month period during which you were using while I looked the other way, I am sorry for all of it."

"Nine."

"Excuse me?"

"It was a _nine_ month period. I hid it well for the first three."

"Nine?!" He looked to her incredulously. "How is that possible?"

"I wasn't sleeping with Rowle that entire time, if that's why you're panicking." She kissed the top of Teddy's head. His curly dark hair had gone natural in his sleep, turning mouse brown like his mother's had been, falling into his eyes. He needed it cut. "For the first several months I was using, I was able to pay in galleons, with my savings, but he kept raising the price and the more I did, the more I needed to do to keep even. It got away from me. I believe that's what he wanted from the start. He knew, once I was hooked, I'd inevitably grant him use of my body in place of galleons."

"Nine?" Kingsley asked again, as if he was hoping she would tell him no, that had been a joke. He pressed his palms against his eye sockets, a surefire tell that he was developing a stress headache. He got them often after difficult days at work, and she would massage his temples until he felt better. She missed being able to do that for him. It made her feel special, useful.

"I'm sorry, Kingsley," she murmured. She kissed Teddy again. "Nine."

"So you started around... September?"

"Early September." She sighed. "I should have told you. I wish I'd told you. I wish I'd–"

Teddy sneezed, wriggled, mumbled something about a Quaffle, and partially opened one eye, so the conversation abruptly halted. Andromeda began rubbing his back in slow circles, gently soothing him back to sleep, which took no time at all. When they were certain he was out, Kingsley resumed the chat.

"I asked you to marry me in late August. You said no."

"I know."

"And you started using in early September?"

"I wanted so badly to have said yes." Her voice wobbled, but she would not cry. She had cried too much in this facility already. She'd cried more in the last two months than in the previous two years combined. "I wanted to marry you, Kingsley, but I knew if we were engaged, if our relationship went from quiet common knowledge to highly public and scrutinized, the Prophet would make it a story and the people would tear you apart for it, for being with me, and it might... they would question your judgment, you'd be ashamed of me, you may not get reelected, and–"

"That's why you said no? You said no because you thought the public would question my judgment for it? Andromeda!" He actually sounded insulted, much to her surprise. "I am highly adept at my job. I was selected as Interim Minister after the war because those tasked with rebuilding our world trusted my judgment, and I was officially elected four months later because the general public trusted my judgment too. That isn't going to change because I'm in love with a woman with a past. I have a past. We all have a past. And do you think I'm the type of man who would choose to keep his relationship private out of shame? I've never been ashamed of you. I wouldn't be ashamed to be married to you. And I trust that our world wouldn't change their opinions based on gossip in the Prophet."

She chuckled bitterly. "Oh? You trust people to do what's right, not to be swayed by bad press, despite the fact that the Prophet was instrumental in aiding the rise of You-Know-Who? And it wouldn't bother you for all the wizarding world to know you've put a ring on the finger of a woman who's been to bed with more wizards than played in the last World Cup?"

"You've had sex with fourteen wizards?"

She quickly did the math in her head. "No, only nine. But I've done... other things."

"We've all done 'other things.' How many witches do you think I've had?"

"A hundred, you said." She smiled, teasing him. "And I haven't had a single one!"

He couldn't help smiling back.

"Nowhere near a hundred. But more than your number of wizards."

"Really? Then why is it you're well-respected and I'm a slag?" She shook her head, chuckling again, but a moment later, she switched back to serious. "The truth is, there's a lot about me that you don't know, Kingsley, and I was afraid if you did know, you... you wouldn't love me anymore. If they dredged up old... old stories, old... old things I've done... I've done... I haven't had..." She dropped her voice again as Teddy stirred, not wanting to wake him. "I haven't had full-on _sex_ with every man I've given myself to as currency, but Rowle wasn't my first."

He nodded thoughtfully, taking this in. For awhile they both stared silently out at the fountain, at the whale with water shooting from its mouth. Andromeda hated the fountain. Why would water come from the whale's mouth and not his blowhole? And why was a whale even in the fountain, surrounded by happy merpeople? Merpeople lived in lakes and seas. Whales were found in the ocean. And why were there huge flowers in the center? Flowers did not grow far above the surface of the water in the ocean, or even in the sea. Nothing about it make a lick of sense.

"What are you thinking?" he asked after a too-long pause.

"I'm thinking about that stupid fountain," she answered, gesturing toward it. "What are _you_ thinking?"

He picked up her hand, kissed the back of it, then held it between both of his own.

"I am thinking we should ask you sister to care for Teddy for two hours every Sunday."

She closed her eyes, unwilling to look upon him in this moment. She felt so light, and yet, so twisted, so content and yet confused.

"You want to try to fix things with me? A fortnight ago, I told you I wished I had my wand so I could Crucio you into insanity."

"And I told you that you aren't a good enough fuck to be worth all this trouble. We both said things we shouldn't have."

"Did you mean that, though? What you said?"

"No." This time he kissed her palm. She was glad she had Teddy in her lap and that other patients, visitors, and nurses were milling about, because for a wild moment she wanted to throw herself at him again, even though she was still hurting.

"No?"

"No. I said it to be cruel, because I was angry. Frustrated. I regretted it immediately."

"Because...?"

He shot her a smile that toed the line between cheeky and sad. "Because you are most definitely a good enough fuck. The best I've had."

"I hate you." But she wore the same sort of smile.

"You don't. You love me. As I love you."

"Healer Smelthwick says we're not good for each other right now."

"She told me the same."

Now she brought his hand up to her mouth, pressing her cherry balmed lips against his knuckles. "She thinks we need time apart."

"I think she's right." He clearly hated admitting this. "She had a thoroughly convincing argument for me."

"But I'll be released in two weeks. I'll go home to Teddy."

"Perhaps we could still have dinner that week, if you wanted to."

"I want to."

"And see Healer Smelthwick together."

"I want that too."

"I don't want us to fight like that again. I felt sick after. For days."

"Me too."

They held hands for awhile, staring out at the stupid fountain, listening to the water running and the quiet hum of others' quiet conversations. They remained this way until the Two Minute Warning.

"Thank you for bringing Teddy. I've missed him." Her voice cracked. She would have to say goodbye to her baby. "Thank you for having me committed. It hasn't been easy, but it's getting better. When I woke up here, I wanted to die."

"And now?"

"And now? I don't. But it's bigger than that. Since my daughter died, I've mostly been living for Teddy, because he needs me. But when I became convinced he'd be better off without me, I wanted to be dead. And now, I want to take care of him again, to be the parent he deserves, but I also want to live for _me_. Does that sound... clichéd?"

"Yes, but I like clichés." He leaned toward her, and she let him kiss her gently, almost chastely, on the lips. There was a strange click and a harsh tutting sound – the latter from a nurse obviously sent by Healer Smelthwick to spy on them – and they immediately pulled apart.

"VISITING HOURS HAVE ENDED!" a nurse announced from the doorway back into the facility. Kingsley stood, stretched, and took Teddy from her arms.

"Should we wake him to say goodbye?" he asked.

"No." She rubbed his back again and kissed his little cheek. "Let him sleep. I'll see him in two weeks."

After their departure, Healer Smelthwick had granted her a fifteen minute session, even though she'd missed her usual time. During this, they discussed the plan for her and Kingsley to attend therapy together once she was released, and she shared her first two nights of writing prompt responses from the letters to herself.

That was almost a week ago. At Healer Smelthwick's request, he would not be visiting at the end of Week Eleven, and it would be her sister and Severus who would come to collect her at the end of Week Twelve. The Healer felt Andromeda needed time to herself, time to focus inwardly rather than on him, and also time to visualize how to best parent Teddy and ease him back into a routine once she was home again. She needed to focus on being strong enough to get through those first few weeks and months at home without relapse, not on worrying whether she could fix a possibly irreparably broken semi-toxic relationship.

"Healer Smelthwick is awfully good at her job, don't you think?" asked Dorcas. The cookies were long gone and the tea had turned cold, but she'd stayed with Andromeda listening to her tell the truth about her visit from Teddy and Kingsley, which was nothing like what the Prophet had reported thanks to their anonymous source.

"She's the best," agreed Andromeda. "We're lucky to have her."

"You must be excited about leaving in a week. Going home to your family. Your job. Your house." Dorcas fiddled with the hem of her facility-issued pajamas; she was not yet permitted 'street clothes.'

"I was fired from my job," said Andromeda offhandedly, waving her hand as if it were no matter because, in the grand scheme, it wasn't. "But I am excited to be with my family and to sleep in my own bed again." It suddenly occurred to her that the girl had arrived shortly after her own admittance, which meant she, too, would be leaving soon, as twelve weeks was the duration of the longest program. "What are you going to do when you're released?"

Dorcas shrugged. "Probably go back to the brothel, honestly. I have little education and no other prospects. But I'll be clean and sober, and I was thinking I can try to find an apprenticeship for during the days. Maybe I could be a shop girl."

"If you don't mind my asking," asked Andromeda, who was trying to picture the shy, mousy blonde working behind a store counter. "How are you paying for this?"

"Oh..." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, again fiddling with her hem. "I found out recently, on the anniversary of the Final Battle, that I'd been left some gold. A rather large amount, actually. It wasn't released to me until it had been five years since her death, as that's how long a Next of Kin has to come forward. I know I could have used it to rent a flat or buy decent clothes, but I thought, if I'm going to start a new life, I want to start it right, and I was afraid if I delayed getting help I'd end up putting it all up my nose." Dorcas shrugged sheepishly. "So I came here."

"From my sister?" asked Andromeda, scarcely able to breathe. "My sister left you her gold? You, a girl she met only once?"

"Yes. Almost three thousand galleons. Not an inheritance. The gold was in a large sack in her vault earmarked for my education, but since I never returned to school... I hope she wouldn't mind me putting it to another use. I'm glad, actually, that Gringotts held onto it for five years. Had my mother known, she would have taken it before I came of age, and I'd have been out on the streets while she used it for herself."

Andromeda ran her fingers through her straight hair, shaking her head in disbelief. "I hate to agree with my sister, may she burn for all eternity, but I have to say I believe she was right about one thing – your mother was a worthless cunt."

A nurse came and knocked on the frame of the open door then, informing them it was time for curfew, to ready for bed before lights out.

Before she exited to the hall, Dorcas Kensignton turned back. "My mother was a Squib from a pureblood family. She saw no other choices for herself, so she made sure I wouldn't have other choices either."

"But you _do,"_ said Andromeda. "You _do_ have choices."

"I know." Dorcas smiled. It was the first wide, genuine smile Andromeda had ever seen on her tanned freckled face. "I have choices _now._ And maybe, someday, I'll find someone who loves me despite my past, like you have."

"Which is all well and good, but..."

The nurse came along to hurry Dorcas out. They were sticklers for punctuality at the facility. Dorcas waved. Andromeda couldn't resist shouting advice at her retreating back, hoping she would take it to heart as she, finally, after fifty long years, had.

"But you need to learn to love yourself first!"

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to those who read Chapter 10, and especially to those who reviewed **(PopularCats, FrancineHibiscus, somethingnew2016, Kat, emrldapplejuice,** and **sassanech).** Your comments not only keep me going, they make me think about my upcoming plot points and questions I still need to answer. I honestly don't know yet whether I want Kingsley and Andromeda to end up together, but I _will_ tell you, I've thrown out my original ending and have therefore decided to continue this on for a few chapters (between 3 and 5) after she gets released from rehab, as I don't feel her journey will be over upon leaving the facility. Hope no one minds!

 **-AL**


	12. Part One: Week 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

 **END OF WEEK 12**

Andromeda had only one individual therapy session left before her release from the rehabilitation center, and she was both excited and anxious.

"What if I'm not ready?" she asked before Adelaide Smelthwick had even gotten the chance to sit down in her transfigured armchair. "I've spent the last three months eager to leave and now – now I don't know if I can handle real life again."

"You can." Adelaide smiled. Her quill and parchment remained in her bag for this final session; she wasn't going to be taking notes today. "Remember, each night is only one night, and each day only one day. I'll see you tomorrow for your session with Kingsley, your sister will be right next door, and you've made incredible strides since your arrival here twelve weeks ago. Have you finished that last letter?"

Andromeda went to the bedside table and pulled out the rolled parchment.

"Here is it. 'Dear Andromeda.' Would you like to read it?"

"Would you like for me to read it?"

Andromeda shrugged halfheartedly as if she couldn't care less, but Adelaide wasn't fooled, nor was she at all surprised a second later when Andromeda held the rolled parchment out to her, an expectant look on her face, like a pupil about to have her homework graded. She parked herself on the edge of her chair.

"Relax," said Adelaide, smiling. "I'm not judging you."

"Of course you are," said Andromeda, but she sat back and tried to relax as advised, though she watched the Healer's face closely as the woman read aloud.

 _Dear Andromeda,_

 _Adelaide has asked me to write you – myself – this letter in which I am to respond to a number of prompts in a quest to discover why I carry around such deep-seated self-loathing._

 _I do not expect this to work because it is a stupid waste of my time, but I'll give it a go because I want to get out of here... and because I have no other stupid things to do while wasting time, unless I want to play cards or chess in the recreation room with the other junkie fuckwits and lifelong drunks. Which I don't, as I've never been much of a people-person and am even less inclined to attempt to pretend to be one now, having had a number of unpleasant experiences with my fellow prisoners. Excuse me, patients._

 _Without further adieu, a response to tonight's prompt, my first clear childhood memory:_

 _It is tea time. Mother and Father take tea time seriously, though whatever he drinks is honey-colored and served in a round bottomed glass; he does not add sugar or milk. Mother is the one who fancies tea - she takes it with lemon. We are in the drawing room. The house-elves have also made little cucumber sandwiches, but I am not permitted to touch them until after Mother has, and, today, she hasn't. She_ _is holding her teacup over her saucer, but not drinking from it. Father is reading the newspaper, glass in hand. He already ate a sandwich, but that isn't considered the cue for us girls._

 _Narcissa is a baby, sleeping in the arms of the governess. She is barely walking and does not speak, but already she is remarkable; cooing strangers comment on her beauty whenever we are shopping in Diagon Alley._

 _Bella is kneeling on the floor by Father's chair. She's reading a book but pauses often to smile up at him. She is both his pet and his princess, forever seeking head pats. Of all of us, she resembles him most, in both appearance and demeanor._

 _I am perhaps three years of age. I am doing my best to sit still on the edge of the Oriental rug, behaving myself until I'm granted permission for sandwich; they're my favorite. I know not make any noise, but I am bored._

 _Suddenly, Father stands. He throws the newspaper on the floor in front of Bella. He is angry._

 _"_ _That Order of Merlin Mudblood lover was just named Hogwarts Headmaster. They're everywhere. In the school, in the Ministry, can't take a walk down Diagon Alley without rubbing elbows with them. Utter filth!"_

 _"_ _Utter filth!" echoes Bella. She picks up the newspaper and tosses it toward me._

 _I look at the picture on the front page, a moving black and white featuring a man with a long beard and billowing robes. He's wearing rings on every finger, shaking hands with a heavyset man in a tall hat, the Minister for Magic (I know him because he's dined at our home before). This Order of Merlin Mudblood lover does not look like utter filth to me, but I am small. I don't know things, not like Bella and Mother and Father._

 _Baby Cissy starts to fuss. Now Mother is angry._

 _"_ _Don't just sit there!" Mother snaps at the governess, a ginger-haired Squib girl. "Take her to the nursery! That crying gives me a headache." The young woman hurriedly obliges. I know she will take Cissy upstairs and breastfeed her and I am slightly jealous. While I am too old to be nourished by a wet nurse, I miss the post-milk cuddling. No one hugs me anymore. They don't need to. I'm big now._

 _"_ _You were the one who wanted another, Druella," Father grumbles, retaking his seat. He snaps his fingers and I hurry to hand him the newspaper._

 _"_ _I didn't know it would be another_ girl _." Mother catches me staring up at her and narrows her eyes. "Bettina Lestrange has_ three boys _and we have... we have..."_

 _"_ _Andromeda and Narcissa," Father finishes._

 _"_ _And me, Father!" says Bella, kneeling up higher so he'll notice her. "Don't forget me!"_

 _"_ _Yes, Princess." He cups her chin lovingly, smiling at her the way he never smiles at me. "We could never forget our first born."_

 _"_ _Me's a princess too?" I ask Mother, tugging at the hem of her skirt. She shoos me away._

 _"_ _Andromeda, during tea time children should be seen and not heard." She and Father exchange a glance. Under her breath, as if I won't hear it, she adds, "Bloody needy, this one is."_

 _He nods in agreement, then pats Bella's head. She smiles triumphantly, as if she earned that pat. I sigh and_ _return to my spot on the rug. I stare into the fire, wishing I had a cucumber sandwich. Bella returns to her book. Father returns to his newspaper and Mother returns to not drinking tea._

 _It's not fair._

 _Bella is a princess and Cissy is the baby and I am to be seen and not heard._

 _Am I needy? All I want is a cucumber sandwich._

 _And maybe a hug every once in awhile._

 _In my earliest memory, they taught me my place._

Adelaide rerolls the parchment. Her expression is pained. She looks as thought she wants to hug the child Andromeda once was, but of course the woman wouldn't allow it. Adult Andromeda does not enjoy being touched, and especially dislikes being comforted.

"That's your first memory?"

"The first vivid one," confirms Andromeda, shrugging as if it were nothing. "I have vague flashes of Narcissa as an infant, of being bundled in a winter cloak, of having my hair washed by the governess, of walking through Diagon Alley, but that was the first memory I could close my eyes and truly _see_."

"Your parents made it clear they wanted a boy?"

"Having one girl is endearing. Having three is a stroke of bad luck." Andromeda crossed one leg over the other. She was dressed in her favorite of the outfits her sister had provided upon her move in: black dress trousers and an attractive magenta button-down blouse, partly open over a fitted mauve tank top, no bra. Her hair was straight and seemed to shine with more luster than it had in weeks, and she wore her glasses perched on top of her head. She'd even applied a little makeup and strapped on a pair of heels. She wanted to leave this place looking better than she had upon arrival.

"Let's move on, shall we?" Adelaide unfurled it again. The next prompt had been a happy childhood memory paired with a sad one, followed by the first time she purposely hurt herself. The Healer read this one silently, her face screwed up with concentration and concern.

 _I am nine. Bella left this morning for Hogwarts. Cissy has been following me around all day since, whining. She wants me to play with her. She wants me to brush her hair. She wants me to read to her. She wants me to keep her entertained. She wants me to be her Bellatrix._

 _Father wants me to be his Bellatrix too. He let me sit with him during tea time this afternoon while he drank Ogden's Best Brandy in his study. He handed me each page of the Prophet once he finished it, expecting me to make conversation, but I am not as smart as she is, not as worldly. I don't know what to say, and after half an hour of regurgitating information I can't understand he tells me to go bother my mother instead._

 _When I get to the parlor, Mother is sipping tea from the best china mugs with Mrs. Lestrange, Mrs. Shafiq, and Aunt Walburga. Narcissa, age seven, is sitting on the floor, playing peak-a-boo with toddler Sirius. Sleeping in the pram is baby Regulus. I know it bothers Mother that Father's sister had two sons in_ _two years while my parents are still 0 for 3._

 _Mrs. Shafiq has a son, too, already at Hogwarts, and is expecting again; they say she's carrying like it's another boy._

 _"_ _Did you need something, Andromeda?" Mother asks, her voice harsh. She isn't happy at my interruption. Tea time begins at three, not at three-thirty-six._

 _"_ _I apologize, Mother. I don't need anything." I back from the room. Inability to attend is forgivable, but tardiness is a mark of poor breeding. I do not yet recognize my abilities as attributable to Legilimency, but I know without needing to hear the words that I've embarrassed her by popping in. From the hall, I hurry to close the door, but before the crack has disappeared I hear the voice of Aunt Walburga._

 _"_ _There's something wrong with that one, Druella. Have you had her tested? Her mind might be... addled."_

 _"_ _Her mind is fine," Mother bristles. I press my ear to the crack. I hate that they're talking about me, but I need to hear more, especially if Mother is going to defend me to Auntie. I am quickly disappointed. "It's her personality that leaves something to be desired."_

 _"_ _You're certain she's not... dimwitted?" asks Mrs. Shafiq, with a hint of judgment wrapped in a veil of concern. "No shame if she is. They can't all be brilliant like my Adnan, and if you're going to have a slow one, better it's a girl than a boy. She's not unattractive so you should still be able to find a husband for her, and that's what matters."_

 _"_ _I agree," says Aunt Walburga, in her shrill, cold voice. "Men don't mind a dim wife, so long as she's docile, has a trim figure, and will provide sons."_

 _Mother sighs. Loudly. Dramatically. "Andromeda's not dim, she's merely... unremarkable."_

 _"_ _One of my sons will take her," says Mrs. Lestrange, in a tone that suggests she's doing Mother a great favor. "Ultimately, it's her blood that matters, not her personality, and certainly not her mind. And if her husband is in need of a 'trim figure,' he'll take a few galleons to the betting parlor and win himself a temporary prize."_

 _The women chuckle._

 _I don't understand what that means exactly, about the betting parlor and the trim figure, but no one need explain what she meant about my blood. Blood has always been what's most important to us, blood purity, followed by another type of purity, one no one will enlighten me on yet (but I know they've told Bella)._

 _The conversation switches to the ever-popular topic of which women in their social circle are secretly slags, so I go to my bedroom, sit on my four-poster canopy bed, and look around. I have an entire wall of porcelain dolls, a thick rose gold rug, a large wardrobe full of fancy dresses and witch's robes, but I feel empty._

 _I pick up one of the dolls. Her face is alabaster and her hair arranged in shiny black banana curls. She looks like me, if I were prettier. In other words, she looks like Bell. I hug her, kiss her cool forehead, sniff her fake hair, and then slam her as hard as I can against the sharp corner of the fireplace mantle. Her face shatters._

 _There are jagged pieces all over the floor. I will need a house-elf to repair the doll before Mother sees. If she finds out what I've done, she will be angry. But for now..._

 _I sit cross-legged, even though Mother says it's undignified to do so. I reach for the largest piece of her shattered face, a curved white shard of porcelain._

 _It's my blood that matters._

 _But why?_

 _I have seen blood before._

 _The governess got a nose-bleed once after Bella, during a tantrum, threw a book at her face. She couldn't stop it with magic because she's a Squib, so she held a handkerchief to her face until the white cloth turned rust-brown. My sister never said sorry._

 _A postman bled onto Mother's package once, when an owl nipped him at the post office, which infuriated Mother, who made the man rewrap it, and complained to his boss about letting half-bloods work in important positions where they'd interact with the public._

 _A Romani chaser hit by a bludger bled profusely during the last Quidditch World Cup, which Father insisted we all attend even though Mother said matches are no place for ladies. Father was furious when the Romani team won; he said half their players were Muggleborn and shouldn't have been permitted on the pitch._

 _I've seen the blood of a Squib, a half-blood, and a Muggleborn. Dirty blood. Utter filth. But not my own. Not that I can recall._

 _And so I nick myself with that porcelain shard. My blood drips onto what used to her the slant of her forehead, the brow above her left eye. It's Gryffindor red against the white, completely unremarkable._

 _Every year on my birthday, I am permitted to choose a new doll from the Porcelain Emporium. I scan the shelves looking for the perfect one, the prettiest one, the one with the best dress or loveliest hair._

 _I never choose the unremarkable ones. No one does._

 _I nick my palm again, slightly deeper this time. I squeeze the skin around the cut, dripping blood purposely into the hollow of what was once the face of my favorite doll. Why would any wizard marry me for my blood?_

 _It looks the same as that of the Squib, the half-blood, and the Muggleborn._

 _Utterly unremarkable._

"This is beautiful, Andromeda," muses Adelaide, setting it down in her lap. "You could be a writer, has anyone ever told you that?"

"No, never." Andromeda rises and goes to the dresser for gillywater. "Who would want to read anything I'd manage to write?"

"A lot of people, I imagine. The inner workings of those traditional old pureblood families are fascinating to modern wizards and witches. I hope you realize that the way you lived was uncommon, even for the 1950s and '60s. Most pureblood families let go of high tea and antiquated courtship customs and blood binding by the end of the reign of Queen Victoria. Only the Sacred 28 seemed keen to hold on, and half of them had loosened the reins by a half-century later."

"I'd been questioning our ways for years by that point, but it wasn't until that afternoon I started to truly doubt the importance of blood purity. It simply didn't make much sense to me. Prior to that, I'd imagined our blood to be somehow different, special. Green or gold, perhaps. But it wasn't. It isn't."

"No, it isn't."

They went through more of her prompts, one by one, spending considerable time on some and skimming over others, until they reached, "Happiest memory (of adulthood)."

Andromeda hadn't been in much of a 'happiest memories' mood the night she had to reply to that one, and had hurried through, thinking the prompt frivolous and unnecessary. She told Adelaide as much, suggesting she skip it.

Adelaide did not allow herself to be distracted away. If anything, this made her want to read it more.

 _Happiest memory:_

 _The afternoon Nymphadora was born. When I held her for the first time. When I realized she was real, really and truly real, and not a figment of her father's and my imagination, as she'd been up until that point._

 _She was asleep, swaddled in a pale purple blanket, handed to me by my husband, who'd gently wiped the blood and fluids from her body and face with a damp flannel. Her cord had been cut, the placenta had been delivered, and I was both exhausted and exhilarated._

 _I unwrapped her and held her against my chest; I wanted to feel her heartbeat against mine. She was small and perfect. Bringing her into the world had been difficult, though not as dramatic as my sister's experience birthing Hope. There was no worry I would die, unless the pain killed me. I bit on a leather strap to keep from screaming, as the home was narrow and there were Muggle neighbors on either side (I did not wish to alarm them). I was in labor for most of the day and slightly worried because she wasn't due for another three weeks. I was massive and uncomfortable and ready to not be pregnant anymore, and yet, I wasn't at all ready for Motherhood._

 _It was Valentine's Day, 1973. I was nineteen, Ted was less than two years out of Hogwarts, and we were basically knutless. We were renting a room in the home of an elderly woman who was kind enough to take us in after we were evicted from our flat for paying late one too many times. I cared for her during the days – she was sweet, but in the early stages of senility – while Ted worked outside the home as a shop assistant for Mr. Ollivander, which paid about as well as could be expected considering his primary duties were to put wands in boxes, slide them onto shelves, and sweep the floor sans magic (Ollivander was weird in that way)._

 _The pregnancy was planned, but stupidly so. It became apparent somewhere around the six month that we should have waited until we were financially and emotionally ready; we were neither. But we were hopelessly, carelessly in love with each other and additionally in love with the narcissistic notion of creating a perfect little blend of our best qualities._

 _When I first set eyes on her I couldn't stop sobbing._

 _The elderly witch – Wendolyn Waters – held my hand and spoke in soothing tones while Ted handled the delivery. She had no children herself but had sat with her mother and sisters through labor and delivery multiple times in her younger years._

 _Ted and I had studied what to do from a book we borrowed from the Muggle library and never returned (I still have it). I pushed until I thought my eyes would pop from their sockets, and finally, just when I thought I'd give up and beg him to cut me open like a haggis enthusiast would a sheep's stomach, her head emerged. "Just one more push!" Ted said. "I can see him!" (One of us was hoping for a 'him.')_

 _I don't know how I managed, but I pushed again, twice more, and out she slipped. We knew we weren't done – the book mentioned placenta delivery and cutting the cord and possibly stitching for 'later benefits to the husband,' though I didn't initially understand what that meant. (He explained the passage was referring to sewing me up down there to make sex more pleasurable for the man down the road. I told him I was not a quilt and would therefore need no such thing. To his credit, he agreed that it seemed archaic and couldn't believe the Muggle book promoted such a thing.)_

 _I couldn't breathe until I heard her cry. The book said she would cry, that if the baby didn't cry there was a problem. Crying was healthy. I must have been very healthy, because I cried too, harder than ever before._

 _While Ted cleaned himself up after giving me our daughter, Mrs. Waters stroked her tiny cheek and slipped her pinkie finger into the baby's little fist. She said, "Wotcher, Nymphadora." It was the first time anyone used my daughter's name. Ted and I had chosen in weeks before – Nymphadora Grace Tonks for a girl, Edward Thomas Tonks Junior for a boy – but to hear it spoken aloud, addressed to our child... I could feel her heart beating, and I heard her name, and I knew I'd just met the most important person who would ever exist in my life, the one I'd love the most and be willing to die for, the one I'd dedicate myself to caring for._

 _It was the moment I felt like a mum._

"That's beautiful, Andromeda," said Adelaide Smelthwick, fishing in her overlarge bag for a handkerchief to wipe her misting eyes. "As you know, my daughter had her first baby recently, and I was in the room for it. I assume you were present when Nymphadora had Teddy?"

"Yes," she said unaffectedly, though knowing her well now, Adelaide knew she was both employing Occlumency and putting on a stiff upper lip to avoid seeming emotional. "She birthed at home too, but not because she couldn't afford a hospital. It was simply too dangerous, with the war on and her position and my insane sister on the loose. We had an experienced midwife, though. And the werewol... excuse me, her husband, Remus... he was present as well."

"You didn't like him, did you?"

"He wasn't good enough for her. And not because of the Lycanthropy, though I must say neither Ted nor I were... were comfortable with someone like him around our daughter all the time. He wasn't good enough because he didn't treat her well. He left her twice. He got her pregnant with no intention of staying with her, out of guilt he married her, and then he left again. He broke her heart multiple times, sent her spiraling into depression."

"Why did he leave?"

"At first? He fed her some rubbish about not being good enough for her, as if he were some sort of... some sort of bloody martyr. He said it was only a matter of time before she left him for someone younger, handsomer, and it would break his heart, so he was breaking it off before it could go far enough to hurt. But it hurt her. He was a liar, anyway."

"You don't believe he was truthful?"

"He broke it off with her because he thought he wasn't good enough? I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Oh, forgive me," said Adelaide dryly. "I forgot how impossible it is for one person to feel they're not good enough for another and to therefore avoid taking a relationship to another level in order to avoid either party getting hurt."

Andromeda's jaw dropped almost comically. "You're referring to me and Kingsley?"

"You wouldn't marry him. Why is that?"

"It's not the same."

"Isn't it? You were protecting him from you – protecting his reputation from being besmirched by yours – and also protecting yourself, weren't you? You weren't only afraid it would ruin his career if the Prophet reported on the things you've done in the past, those you're ashamed of. You were afraid he would leave, that he wouldn't love you anymore if he knew the real you, all of you, the details of your past. It's why you have a habit of apologizing to him for things like your pale skin and slight weight gain, why you confess to things like cheating on a school exam – you're testing him, testing the waters. You've made no secret of the fact that you feel you're not good enough for him. Why is it unfathomable that Remus Lupin might have genuinely felt he was protecting both Nymphadora and himself by keeping away from her?"

"I... I'd forgotten I told you... about the things I say to Kingsley."

"That's not an answer."

"But I haven't hurt Kingsley! Remus repeatedly hurt my Nymphadora."

"You genuinely don't believe you hurt Kingsley? Your addiction and cheating aside, he proposed to you and you said no. He asked you on numerous other occasions why you'd said no and implored you to reconsider, but you gave him no explanation. I believe it is fair to say he was deeply hurt, and I think we should talk about it during your first couples therapy session."

"Not the same."

"If I'm not mistaken, Remus Lupin feared the stigma attached to him on account of his condition would be passed along to Nymphadora and their future children. Can you not relate?"

"Not the same," Andromeda repeated emphatically. "I can't give Kingsley children."

"You know full well that's not what I meant."

Andromeda glowered at the Healer, her lower lip jutted out in an immature pout, but ultimately she had to nod.

"I can relate."

"Then why do you despise Remus so?"

"You think if I can put it into words, I can also express why I carry around this intense self-hatred? I see right through you, Adelaide Smelthwick." Andromeda chuckled bitterly. "But I hate him for a multitude of reasons, not least of all because he got my daughter killed. He left to fight in that battle and she wanted to go too, but he and I both insisted she remain home with me and the baby. She nursed Teddy and after he was burped, she handed him to me and said she couldn't stand it, she had to be with her husband, it was what he would want. She said he'd want her by his side, and she went into battle, and Bella killed her, and I lost my only child because of that man!"

"You alternate between blaming him and blaming Bellatrix, but what percentage of the blame should Nymphadora bear? She chose to–"

"Don't! Don't you dare blame her! She wasn't in her right mind, she was postpartum, she was in love that that werewo... that man! He took her away! He was the reason she went into battle and Bella was the reason she never returned and ultimately I'm the reason Teddy doesn't have a mother, because I let her go!" Andromeda leapt up from her chair as if the seat had been transfigured to hot coals. "I let her go! She kissed me goodbye and said she'd be back, and I... I... I could have stopped her, if I'd tried harder! I could have... I should have..." Andromeda sank to the floor in front of her chair, down to her knees, her hands on the cool tile floor, her back hunched, but to her credit she did not cry. "I let her go and now she's dead!"

"That is _not_ your fault." Adelaide slipped to the floor from her own chair, brushing back her long dreadlocks before settling beside her patient. "It was a war, Andromeda. In war, people die. When your daughter entered the Auror program, she did so knowing she might someday put her life in danger doing her job. When she joined the Order of the Phoenix she knew she was incurring additional risk, but for the good of the world. And when she went into battle that night, she knew she might not return, but she wanted to ensure a better future for her son, the future he'll have now, thanks to Aurors like her and Order members like Remus Lupin.

"I know." Andromeda tugged on her hair, then suddenly half-twisted to punch the mattress jutting over the foot of the bed behind her. "And I'm so bloody angry with her for going I can't stand it!"

"You're angry with her? I don't recall you mentioning that in the letter you wrote her."

"I..." Andromeda unclenched her fist, stared past the Healer at the closed door to her room, and shook her head. "I don't think I realized. But yes, I _am_ angry. You asked me once if I wanted to discuss my bitterness over my changed role, something like that, and I didn't, but... I suppose I am a little bitter. I had one child and didn't want others, and for the past eight years I've known I'm unable to have others, and then she was killed and now I have a little boy to raise, and he looks to me to be his mummy, but it should be her." She sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and returned to her chair, smoothing brushing invisible dust off the knee of her trousers. Adelaide returned to her chair as well.

"I apologize for being so bloody dramatic. I don't know what this place has done to me. Kingsley said alcohol kept me from being overly tense, perhaps it also kept me from being overly emotional."

"Let's talk about how you're going to handle life without it. I will see you tomorrow at your home at eleven for your session with Kingsley..."

"Jumping straight into it, yes."

"But then you'll have a week before you see me again, and in that time, I'd prefer that you not-"

"Drink?"

"Well, yes, that too. But I was going to say, I prefer that you not be intimate with him, if you can manage. I want you to avoid all potentially self-destructive behaviors."

"For how long?"

"Until you're ready."

"I can drink again when I'm ready?"

"No, you cannot drink again, ever. Look at Narcissa. How well she's doing. Does she drink now that she's ready?"

Andromeda pouted. "No."

"Let's try for six weeks without sex, shall we?"

"How about _you_ try six weeks without sex and let me know how it goes?" Andromeda's tone was snarky by her eyes twinkled good-naturedly, which Adelaide was happy to see. "Six bloody weeks. I'm a whore, not a nun."

"You are not a whore."

"A retired whore."

"Andromeda! This self-deprecation is not healthy, and-"

"Alright, alright! Fine, I'm sorry, I was... I'm not a nun, is all I meant. But if six weeks is what you think we need, six weeks is what we shall aim for... though you mustn't fault us if we fall short of expectations. We are, after all, only human. And he is a _powerful_ man."

"One day at a time, then," Adelaide sighed, the hint of a smile on her lips. She patted Andromeda's knee. "Just don't fall into bed with him tonight, and we'll talk tomorrow. Fair?"

"I'll do my very best."

"That's all I ask. And don't put yourself in situations that would most probably lend themselves to relapse. Avoid bars, avoid meals you typically associate with alcohol, avoid Knockturn Alley altogether."

"I'm prepared to commit to sobriety," said Andromeda, and Adelaide could see she was being genuine. "Not only for myself, but for Teddy. He's been through so much already, at such a young age. He deserves better than what I've been able to give him over the last year."

"Yes, he does." Adelaide smiled. "I am proud of you, Andromeda. You have come a long, long way from the woman who told me during her first session that the only reason she hadn't committed suicide yet was because she wanted to kill the Minister for Magic first."

"I said that?" Andromeda couldn't remember having done so, but she knew she'd been furious that first week. Angry with the world and, in particular, with her lover for having had her committed. She felt a slight blush creep into her cheeks. "I can't believe I said that."

"As I said, you've come a long way."

"Thanks in no small part to you." Andromeda smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in her trousers. "My sister is coming soon."

"Yes." Adelaide tapped her wand to her wrist and the time appeared against her skin. "In less than fifteen minutes. Are you ready?"

"I hope so."

"I had wanted to go through the rest of your letter to yourself. Would you feel comfortable leaving it with me? Otherwise–"

"You know nearly everything about me there is to possible know, you might as well know what I share only with myself."

"Thank you."

Andromeda chose to spent the last ten minutes of her time in the facility sitting in the courtyard awaiting Narcissa's arrival. When there were less than five minutes to go, Dorcas Kensington sat beside her on the same bench where she'd been photographed stealing a kiss with Kingsley. That was the photo that had made it into the Prophet.

"I hope to be like you someday," said Dorcas in her quiet, awkward way, while wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact.

"I hope you turn out much better than I have." Andromeda patted her knee. "And I think that's what Bella would have wanted too. She didn't insist upon getting you an education because she wanted to see you end up in the brothel five years later. Promise you won't return there when you're released?"

"I don't make promises I can't keep," said the blonde, staring intently at the ornate, nonsensical fountain across from them. "But I can promise I won't be working from that brothel forever. I have dreams now, real ones, and not just about being saved by a nice boy."

"Nana! Nana!" Teddy tore across the courtyard, throwing himself at Andromeda the same way he had when Kingsley brought him to visit. Before she could say farewell to Dorcas, the girl had all but disappeared, hurrying away toward the hall entrance closest to her room. Andromeda glanced in the direction from which Teddy had come to see her sister. Narcissa was dressed to the nines, as usual, in a long burnt orange dress with black accents, and thanks to high-heeled boots she'd gained two inches in height. Her white blonde hair was swept up and back into an elaborate braid that circled a bun, and her eyelashes were unnaturally dark, but attractively so. Teddy, meanwhile, was in trainers, blue jeans, and a tee-shirt with the Holyhead Harpies logo on the front.

"Teddy, my love!" exclaimed Andromeda after kissing his forehead. "You're not dressed like a prat!"

"Harry and Ginny took me to breakfast and gived me this shirt!"

"I tried to change him into something respectable but he's a stubborn little shite," said Narcissa.

"Nana, Uncle Severus says Auntie Cissy should not use inappropriate words in front of me and Hope 'cause we might a-peat 'em."

"Uncle Severus is correct, and Auntie Cissy is a classless bint."

"Sod off," said Narcissa.

"Fuck you," replied Andromeda.

"Nana!" Teddy sounded scandalized. "Uncle Severus says that's a inappropriate word!"

"Forgive me, love. I'll try to better restrain myself." She stood, smiled, and lifted the boy into her arms. He snuggled against her, clearly happy to be held. She accepted Narcissa's peck on her cheek and bumped the younger woman's hip with hers. "You missed me?"

"Very much, though now that we're reunited I can't fathom why, as it appears you're as unpleasant as ever. And here I was hoping they'd fix you." The words were unkind but they were delivered with a genuine smile that belied the statements.

"I'm so sorry to disappoint you, dear sister." They were in the hall, approaching the apparition point. Andromeda fingered the handle of the wand in her pocket. Having it back after twelve weeks separation felt like regaining a literal part of her, like having a limb reattached after having been thought forever lost. Everything else she owned was being sent home ahead of her, thanks to the magic of house-elves, so she had nothing else to carry but her handbag and her grandson. "Tell me, Cissy, why no Severus? I thought you were coming here to fetch me together."

"I could use a break. We do bloody _everything_ together. Us, our daughter, your grandson, and the damn dog. Sometimes I need... space. Want to get a late lunch? We could go anywhere. Diagon Alley? He's home with Hope and I... I'm not in a rush to get back."

"Diagon Alley is fine, but why no rush? Why need space? Trouble in paradise?"

"Nothing worth whining about," said Narcissa, but something in her tone told her sister she would indeed be doing just that. "Well, ready?"

They'd reached the apparition point.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose," answered Andromeda. She kissed Teddy's cheek. His hair was thick and dark and fell in loose, soft curls almost to his shoulders. His nose was its natural tiny button self and his eyes were wide and dark. He couldn't know it, but like this he greatly resembled her as a child. "To Diagon Alley?"

"On three."

One.

Two.

Three.

The Black sisters and Teddy disappeared with a pop.

Twelve weeks had passed since Andromeda was admitted, semi-delirious and high. Twelve weeks since she came to with Kingsley and a Healer standing over her, calling her an addict. Twelve weeks since Teddy had stumbled upon her, unconscious and strung out on the sitting room floor. Twelve weeks since she' been plunged most involuntarily into the throes of withdrawal.

Twelve weeks since she'd fallen completely apart. Twelve weeks since she'd started being stitched back together.

This part of the journey was over, but in some ways, her recovery had just begun.

* * *

 **A/N:**

The next chapter is one of my favorites thus far. It's a bit different since she'll be out of the facility so we'll really get to see Narcissa, Severus, and Teddy, but I'm looking forward to exploring her outside the confines of therapy and the facility. In upcoming chapters, she's going to have her therapy sessions with Kingsley, deal with Teddy's developing attachment issues, have an important chat with The Boy Who Lived, explore the letters she wrote to Ted, Bella, and Tonks, help Cissy through what should have been her thirtieth wedding anniversary, and see Dorcas at least once more, all the while struggling to stick with her sobriety, and, hopefully, finally find herself ready and able to recognize the source of her self-loathing, so she can truly learn to let it go.

Thank you so, so, so much for reading this fic for the last twelve chapters! Originally it was going to end here with a depressing epilogue I've since cut (let's just say there's a reason she wasn't seen at Hermione and Draco's wedding). I haven't made a decision regarding how this will end – whether she'll stay with Kingsley, whether she'll relapse, whether she'll ultimately be able to raise Teddy – but I couldn't give her the ending I originally planned; I just feel like she deserves better.

Thanks in particular to those who reviewed Chapter 11: **sassanech, somethingnew2016, Banglabou, clarasnotlikely, FrancineHibiscus, Jenna98, emrldapplejuice, Sky Venom, KnowInsight,** and **PopularCats.**

 **-AL**


	13. The First Transition

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:**

 **THE FIRST TRANSITION**

Andromeda had been awake for at least five minutes before she opened her eyes. She was starting the day in her own bed for the first time in just over three months, but for some reason, she didn't feel better rested. She glanced groggily to her right, where she'd left a glass of water on the bedside table the night before, beside a vial of Dreamless Sleep Severus had said she should only take if absolutely necessary. It hadn't been absolutely necessary, thus she hadn't touched it. Though Adelaide Smelthwick had said that particular potion was fine in moderation, she wondered whether the Healer would be proud of her for abstaining. She reached for the water now, though, to combat the cotton sensation overtaking her mouth. She wanted to get up to brush her teeth, but the bed was soft and comfortable, and she wasn't ready to face the day.

She'd managed that first night without alcohol. One down, a lifetime to go. She drank gillywater while out to lunch with Teddy and Cissy, then had cold Butterbeer with dinner. She'd been worried about facing the dark, silent house alone after Teddy went down, so she gave him permission to sleep with her and read in bed beside him until she was too tired to keep her eyes open. He was still curled up against her now, his first two fingers sucked into his mouth, a habit she thought she'd managed to break him of over a year ago. Apparently, in her absence, he'd regressed.

She hadn't seen Kingsley yet, but he was due over before eleven, as their joint therapy session was to be held in her home from eleven to one. Teddy would be with Narcissa during those hours, but given how clingy he'd been since they left the facility, she was already worried about how she'd manage to get him to go.

And the worry was not unfounded.

At ten-thirty, when Narcissa arrived to take him, Andromeda and Teddy were still sitting at the kitchen table, finishing a late breakfast.

She'd come home to find her cupboards and refrigerator fully stocked, which Narcissa insisted she'd had nothing to do with, so Andromeda could only assume Kingsley had done so knowing she would have no food and no money upon release. She was grateful, but also slightly annoyed, as she hated feeling dependent upon anyone. Still, the child needed to eat, so she made eggs and sausages, toast and baked beans, with coffee (for her) and orange juice (for him).

He insisted upon eating while seated in her lap.

"Are you feeding him?" asked Narcissa incredulously as Andromeda let Teddy take a bite of sausage off her fork. "He's five years old!"

"I know how old he is." Andromeda kissed his head over pink curls, cut off another bite of sausage, and held it up for him to eat. They were both still in their pajamas and it was evident neither had brushed their hair.

"Andromeda Tonks, your Healer will be here in under thirty minutes, Kingsley likely sooner, and you look a bloody mess. Your eye makeup is smeared to your temples, you haven't showered, and there's butter on your arm!"

"Hmm?" Andromeda twisted to see where Narcissa had pointed. "Oh." Sure enough, she must have stuck her elbow in the butter and somehow smeared it up her forearm. She reached for a napkin while Teddy nibbled toast, ignoring his great-aunt.

"Have you no sense of shame? That Healer is going to think there's something wrong with you!"

"There _is_ something wrong with me, Cissy. That's why I'm seeing a Healer." Though she'd slept for nine straight hours, she felt overtired and irritable. "Teddy, love, don't eat the beans with your fingers."

He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached for a fork.

"Teddy, sit in your own chair and eat like a big boy. Nana needs to take a shower." Narcissa, who was done up and dressed like she had to defend her client in front of the Wizengamot later today, tried to pry the boy from her sister's lap, but he stuck as if glued there.

"No," he said. "Want Nana."

"Teddy!"

"It's fine, Narcissa. When you leave, I'll shower. And if there isn't time, I'll do it later. It's not as if Kingsley and Healer Smelthwick haven't seen me looking worse, or seen me in pajamas. Sit down, have some toast, relax. How is Severus this morning?"

"Severus is fine." Narcissa sighed deeply as she settled into the chair across from her sister and great-nephew and reached for half a slice of buttered toast. She Accioed over a plate and helped herself to two sausages, too. She'd skipped breakfast, as she did most mornings lately, in an attempt to lose what was left of the baby weight (now that the 'baby' was coming up on three years old, she felt it was time to make more of an effort). "He's a good father, better than anyone might have expected considering he wasn't the most nurturing professor, and I adore him even when he drives me mad. We're taking the children to the zoo today while you're busy with your appointment."

"Then why did you say 'he's fine' in a tone that says, 'he's the worst'?"

"It's just..." She huffed. "It's just, he's upset because he has to leave the dog at home, zoo rules. He sulked over it, like a child denied his favorite toy. Sometimes I regret getting him that bloody beast. She's sweet, and she makes him happy, but..."

"But you're jealous of a four-legged, floppy-eared ball of fluff?"

"I'm not jealous, I'm... annoyed." Narcissa pouted out her lower lip, looking every bit the whiny brat Andromeda remembered from early childhood. "This toast is dry. Have you any jam?"

Andromeda waved her wand, sending the jar from the counter to the table.

"Teddy, what did I say about your hands in the beans? Stop that." She gently tapped the back of his hand with the tip of her wand in admonishment. He reached for his fork.

They ate in silence for several minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Narcissa was the one to break it.

"I hate to say it out loud, Meda, but I miss my husband."

"He's right next door, Cissy. If you miss him, go home."

"Not _that_ husband!"

Andromeda gave an exaggerated gasp. "You're married to two men? Cissy, you slag."

"Shut it. I'm serious. I miss... I miss my Lucius. You know, this month would have been our thirtieth anniversary. Thirty years! We were supposed to grow old together. We were supposed to..." She bit off a tiny bit of crust, just to have something to do. "I love Severus, I truly do, and I love our daughter and our life, but sometimes... There are things I want him to do that he just won't do, you know? You know... _adult_ things. _Rough_ things. Things that leave bruises. He says he doesn't want to hurt me, but I want... I need... I have so much pent up... Lucius used to..."

"I get it. Don't paint me a picture."

"It's not only the s-e-x, either."

"What's that spell?" asked Teddy.

"Snacks," answered Andromeda without missing a beat. "Auntie Cissy's trying to lose weight but she can't keep away from snacks, the doe-eyed hippo. Go on, Narcissa."

"Yes, well. It's not just the... the _snacks,_ that I miss. I miss our talks, the way we used to tease each other, our past, our dreams for the future..."

"That's part of being a widow," said Andromeda with a distinct hint of bitterness. "That won't ever go away. You cannot help but dwell your past since your plans for the future went to all to hell the moment your other half's candle was snuffed out. Losing Ted would have been the most painful thing I've ever experienced, if my Nymphadora hadn't been taken from me a month later. At least you have Draco."

"And I love Draco, but Meda, Draco is not... he's not Lucius! And I wouldn't want him to be, he's his own person, and a son is no replacement for a husband - that sounds... wrong... but you know what I mean, don't you? A son isn't, a new baby isn't, another man isn't... nothing can ever replace the person you lost."

"No fucking shit."

"Nana! Do not say those words! Not appropriate!"

"Sorry, Teddy. Cissy, when you go home later, be sure and thank Severus for me. I'm so very glad Teddy knows all about which words are inappropriate now and is therefore able to lecture me regarding their usage."

Narcissa ignored this little dig at her husband, eager to finally get off her chest what had been bothering her for weeks. "I've been dreaming about Lucius lately too, all summer, in fact, and Severus could tell something was wrong. I was moving and mumbling in my sleep, thrashing about, moaning he said, so he gave me dreamless sleep. He assumed they were nightmares, and I didn't set him straight, but I don't want to take it. I _like_ seeing Lucius in my sleep. I like... I like what we do in my... in my dreams. I... don't mind moving and moaning..." Her cheeks went pink as Andromeda realized she was thrashing in bed for reasons entirely different than what Severus had deduced.

"Oh, you're having _those_ sorts of dreams! Merlin's balls, Cissy. I haven't had a dream like that since I was... I don't know... twenty? Twenty-five?"

"Really?" Narcissa tore the crust into pieces, arranging them on her plate, the way she used to when she was refusing to eat the food Severus and Draco tried to force on her in her depression. "Am I strange then? Is it... is it weird to have those dreams? Is something wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. Your husband is dead and you miss him, that's all."

"Your husband is dead?!" Teddy dropped the fork, getting egg on the table. "Uncle Severus?!"

"No!" both sisters assured him. Andromeda hugged him tighter. Narcissa wiped up the dropped egg and handed back his fork.

"Auntie Cissy was married once before, remember?" said Andromeda gently. "We've talked about this, about how Draco's father died when you were a baby, not long after your mummy."

"Oh, right." He glumly speared a bit of sausage. "I forgetted."

"You forgot," Narcissa corrected. "That's alright. Sometimes I'd like to forget, but I can't, and that's the trouble."

"Talk to Severus about it. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he probably misses Lucius too. They were friends, after all. And talk to Draco. I'm sure he misses his father. You're not the only one who experienced a loss."

"And you?" Narcissa leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm with her elbow on the table. (Good thing Mother wasn't there to witness such awful manners!) "Do you miss your husband?"

"I... I try not to think... but sometimes, I..." Andromeda trailed off as a noise from the Floo alerted her to Kingsley's arrival. He entered the kitchen a moment later.

"Morning Narcissa, Teddy." He cleared his throat and smiled at Andromeda. "And."

She shot him a withering glance, which only widened his smile. "You know I hate it when you call me 'And.' My name may be stupid but that nickname is stupider."

"Yes," agreed Narcissa. "Precisely why parents should not give their children stupid names. Which reminds me, how did you chose _'Nymphadora,'_ Meda? Such a classic, lovely, feminine name."

"Fuck off, you bubbling banshee. Isn't Hope's proper name _Aquila_?"

"Nana! You said a inappropriate word again! The F one!"

"Sorry, Teddy." She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek and tried to remove him from her lap, but he gripped the table and refused. "What time is it, Kingsley?"

"Twenty-to. Are you not dressed?"

"I was dressed yesterday. If you'd wanted to see me looking my best, you should have visited then."

"I thought it would be better if we waited to see each other until Heal–"

"Let's not fight about it until after she arrives." Andromeda slipped to the side, turning in her chair, so she could stand, forcing Teddy to do the same. He turned and hugged her around the legs, barring her from being able to walk. Narcissa worked to pry his hands off his Nana's thighs as Andromeda went on. "She's getting paid to fix us, so we might as well make sure she earns it."

"I've no interest in fighting with you now _or_ twenty minutes from now."

"Come along, Teddy. We still have clothes for you at my house, you can dress there, then we're going to the zoo. Won't that be fun?"

"No!" he wailed. He threw himself at Andromeda, but Narcissa caught him around the waist and picked him up as he continued to struggle.

"Your grandmother will be right here when we return," Narcissa assured him. "Say goodbye, Teddy."

"No, Auntie, no! I want Nana! I want stay with Nana!"

Andromeda moved across the kitchen in a flash, cupping his face delicately in her hands.

"Teddy, love, I _promise_ I will be here waiting for you after your trip to the zoo. I am not going anywhere. You can trust me."

Teddy nodded, tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks, but then he looked to Kingsley.

"Nana will be here when I come back, you promise?"

And the sentence stabbed her through the heart, as she realized he was asking the Minister because her promise meant nothing. Because he could _not_ trust her.

"I promise Teddy. We will both be here, waiting for you."

"Come along," said Narcissa in a no-nonsense tone. "Like ripping off a bandage, it shall hurt less if we do it quickly." She hurried to the fireplace, tossed in Floo powder, stepped into the flames, called "Snape home!" and disappeared.

"That was awful," said Andromeda, flopping back down at the table once the flames died down.

"He'll learn to trust you again."

"He's been physically attached to me since they picked me up yesterday afternoon. He even slept with me. That's why I haven't showered yet. I tried, but he wanted to shower with me. I said no, he's too old, and that's when he started to cry..."

"It will get better." Kingsley crossed to her, hesitated only a moment, then leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. "Do you want to shower now? There are seventeen more minutes until she arrives."

"No, why bother?" She cut up the last of her sausage. It was much easier to eat without the boy on her lap.

"How was last night?" He sat beside her and reached for the last piece of toast, which Narcissa had already smeared with jam but otherwise not touched.

"It would have been better with you in my bed."

"It would have been crowded. Didn't you just say you already had a man in your bed last night? That little pink-haired lad who won't let you shower alone? Seems awfully possessive, that one."

She snickered. "I remember a time when _you_ wouldn't let me shower alone." She scooped onto toast what was left of Teddy's eggs, about a mouthful. "I miss it."

He smirked, but it faded as he couldn't help but ask, "Are you still angry with me for Hestia?"

She snorted. "Are you still angry with me for Rowle?"

They stared at each other for a long, unblinking moment. He looked away first, focusing on what was left of the toast.

"You're right, we should save our fighting until that Healer arrives."

"Speaking of that Healer..." Andromeda stabbed the sausage with a little more viciousness than necessary. "How much are we paying her? And by 'we,' I mean _you_. As you may or may not have heard, I am both broke and unemployed. Apparently hospitals don't keep you on if you steal supplies from their storerooms with the intention of getting high off illegal substances. Fancy that, eh?"

"Don't worry about the cost. I have money."

"I'm no concubine; I'll not be your kept woman."

"I'm not asking to keep you. Could we put the kettle on?"

She nodded and waved her wand, starting the water for tea. "It may take me some time, Kingsley, but I'll pay you back. If you prefer galleons, it'll take awhile, as I can't imagine employers will be clamoring to hire me, but if you prefer I work it off I could just let you bugger me twice per week for the next three years and we'll call it even."

"As tempting as the offer is, I shall decline, in part because I hate it when you speak that way."

"Why? You've asked me to do it in the past and I've always said no, so it seems a good compromise..."

"I'm not talking about the buggery, I'm referring to the way you offer sex like it's currency. I'm not going to do that."

"The Daily Prophet called me your whore." She Accioed over a copy of the previous day's edition, which had been waiting for her when she returned home, along with all of the other issues Severus saved in a large crate. "Look at this article. Last time they only accused me of kneeling down before Rowle and that nurse for drugs, but this? They're speculating I've been a career prostitute off and on since my Hogwarts days, thanks to an interview given by recently released Theodore Nott and another given by a man I used to work for whose ex-wife is a Healer at the facility. It even says you paid for my rehabilitation stay to keep me quiet an out of the way while Rowle's trial was ongoing."

"I saw the article."

"You know much of it is untrue."

"Of course I know it's untrue."

"I am not your whore."

"I would never treat you like one. Which is precisely why I hate it when you make comments like the one about working off a debt to me. I am not using you for sex and you are not using me for galleons."

"No, I'm not. I'll get what I need on my own." She stood and began clearing the table by hand with vigor, scraping food into the bin and dropping dishes into the sink, chipping at least one plate. In a quiet voice, with her back to him, she added, "But thank you for stocking the kitchen."

He stood and moved to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she started filling the sink.

"I care about you and I care about Teddy, and I knew you'd have enough to worry about without worrying about food, too. But I never mean to make you feel like a concubine. I know you prefer to be independent." He nuzzled against her neck with his nose and lips and she couldn't help but practically purr at his touch. "And I love that you're independent. If you insist upon paying me back, I'll accept galleons _after_ you get a job, but honestly, I'd rather you just accept that sometimes people help the people they love and don't require anything in return."

"You still love me?" She began washing the chipped plate, but let her eyelids fall closed as she did so, enjoying the feeling of his mouth sucking at the spot where her neck met her shoulder. One of his hands crept up the front of her tanktop, drawing his thumb over her peaked nipple through the thin fabric.

"Mm-hm," he answered.

"How much time have we got until she gets here?"

"Twelve minutes," he estimated, continuing to kiss and caress her. "Why, did you want to get dressed?"

"No I want you inside me. I want to touch you and snog you and feel you and make love to you..."

"We can't, there isn't time." But he continued sucking and kissing her neck and massaging her right breast and when she pressed her bum against his groin, she could feel the evidence of his budding arousal. She turned her head and twisted her upper body so they could snog each other breathless, and when they finally parted she said, "Twelve minutes is plenty of time. I'll have you ready in less than one, then you shouldn't need more than four."

"I don't know whether to be turned on because you want me badly enough to risk getting caught by your Healer or to be insulted because you think I need only four minutes."

"You should feel honored that I have such faith in your abilities, I believe you can get _me_ there in under a third of the time it would take most men to please a women." She picked the plate up and resumed washing, but ground her arse against his erection as she did so. He responded by pulling back on her hips, thrusting against her.

"Ah, so it's about your pleasure, then."

"Stop talking and shag me, Minister."

He kept one hand on her hip, but gently turned her face with the other, capturing her lips in another passionate kiss. Their eyes closed and tongues met, and neither reacted when the kettle started to whistle. Though still holding the plate in her right hand, she grabbed his wrist with her left, moving his hand from her hip to her thus far neglected left breast, pressing his palm against her hardened nipple, their fingers interlocked. He thrust against her again and groaned into her mouth, questioning quite seriously whether he could, indeed, 'get her there' in four minutes or less.

"Good morning. Don't stop on account of me. I'll just help myself to tea."

Andromeda and Kingsley leapt apart with such speed and force, the plate in her hand flew across the room, hit the refrigerator, and shattered.

"Reparo," said Healer Smelthwick lazily. She caught it as it zoomed back toward the sink and reached for the whistling kettle. "You told me to Floo in when it was time for my session, so I did. I called your name but there was no response. I could hear the whistle and followed it in here, hoping to find you and Minister Shacklebolt... which I did."

Andromeda wanted to appear ashamed at having been found in such a state, but the embarrassment resonating from Kingsley was so strong she was certain she'd be able to feel it even if she had absolutely no talent as a Legilimens, and it made her want to giggle like a schoolgirl. He was too casually repositioning his long, silver wizard's robes as if letting them billow would hide his... excitement. This was a useless gesture.

"What time is it?" asked Andromeda, placing three mugs on the counter.

"Eight till. I prefer to be early so that we might start on time, as you ought to know, Andromeda. Are we going to sit in here?"

"We're going to sit in the sitting room." Andromeda poured hot water into each mug, added milk and sugar to hers and milk alone to his. She let the Healer handle her own. "Kingsley will meet us in there momentarily, he needs to take care of a personal matter upstairs." Unable to help herself, she winked at him. Had his skin been as white as hers she was certain it would have gone bright red at this, which entertained her greatly, as he was generally a stoic and professional man not prone to great displays of emotion.

He headed up to the loo as the women headed into the sitting room. Andromeda settled on the couch, her feet tucked under her, holding a pillow against her abdomen, while Adelaide opted for the easy chair, which she moved via hovering charm to be across from her patient.

"I thought we agreed you'd give it some time before falling into bed with him?" asked Adelaide.

"We haven't fallen into bed, contrary to what you just saw. He arrived this morning shortly before you did, and I spent last night alone with Teddy after my sister left. I haven't dressed because I haven't had a moment alone, not because my lover and I were having a lie-in."

"You certainly looked as though you're getting along better than you were. I know you spoke when he brought Teddy to visit, but I was unaware that you'd so thoroughly reconciled."

"I know that therapy requires honesty to be effective – you've taught me that much – and in the interest of honesty, I have to tell you, Kingsley is the best I've ever had in bed, and while he may be lying to inflate my ego, he's sworn the same to me. Therefore, we could be absolutely furious with each other and still be randy enough for a shag. To be perfectly candid, some of our best sex has been had while too angry to speak to each other."

"Well, that seems... healthy." Adelaide sipped her tea. "Have you had any alcohol since yesterday?"

"None, and nothing else either, not even Dreamless Sleep. I swear that I am committed to both my sobriety and to the continued improvement of my mental health. I don't think I can last six weeks without sex, but I'm not going to run out and spread my legs for the first man who picks me up in a pub, either. On a related note, did you see yesterday's Prophet? I hadn't until I got home last night."

"I saw it, it was rubbish, and we have since identified the source who was giving them information from inside the facility. It wasn't the man you suspected, it was another nurse. She'd apparently been dating Benedict before he got caught with your young friend Dorcas, and blames the pair of you for having gotten him fired and arrested. I almost suggested she needed therapy as well, because no healthy person could so vehemently support a person after he did what he did, but I simply agreed with my colleagues' demand that she be let go and she is now as unemployed as he is, though not incarcerated."

"What's that about being incarcerated?" Kingsley rejoined them, looking like his usual self, calm and even-keeled. The Healer quickly recapped.

"Ah. Well." He glanced at Andromeda as he sat on the couch beside her, close, but not touching. "Those who matter know that the bulk of that story was fabricated, and aren't bothered by the bits that are true."

"Is that true?" asked Adelaide. "As Andromeda knows, the cornerstone of successful therapy is honesty. So I'll ask you again, is it _absolutely true_ that you aren't bothered by _any_ of what was printed? _Anything_ that she's done?"

"I..." He glanced at her again, briefly, before returning his focus to the Healer. "I suppose some of it bothers me, yes, but I'm trying to put it out of my head."

"What, specifically?"

"Specifically? It bothers me that until she was in the facility, I had no idea she'd once had a disease of a sexual nature. I had no idea she'd started shagging wizards while still at Hogwarts, or that Rowle wasn't the first she'd given herself to for galleons. Until her rehabilitation started, I had no idea she'd quite literally prostituted herself on multiple occasions, or that she'd ever gone _directly_ from another man's bed to mine."

"Kingsley?" she whispered, clearly hurt. "You said you–"

He cut her off. "You haven't been _honest_ with me. You told me Ted was your first, but according to the article it was Theodore Nott. You told me about your one affair, but not that you'd given jobs to other blokes through the years. You told me about your disease only because you were angry I'd had you committed, but not two years ago when I specifically asked you–"

"It wasn't your business two years ago if I'd ever had anything! It isn't your business now! It's been cleared up since nineteen-bloody-sixty-eight! What does it matter?!"

"That's not the point!" His naturally booming voice got louder, but he was not shouting. "You _lied_ to me. On multiple occasions, you–"

"I did not lie! You have _no right_ to be angry with me, because I did not _lie!_ The fact is, you didn't _specifically_ ask me whether I'd _ever_ had a social disease, and you didn't _specifically_ ask me if I'd _ever_ blown blokes for galleons, and you didn't _specifically_ ask me if–"

"Woman, a lie by omission is still a lie!"

"It most certain is not, and don't call me _woman_!"

"Let's take a breath!" Healer Smelthwick held up her hands. "Andromeda, Kingsley's _feelings_ are valid, whether or not you believe he had the right to this information. And Kingsley, let's only call either other by proper names, please."

"I apologize," said Kingsley, instantly calming. "Andromeda, I wish you'd been truthful with me rather than purposely misleading, as I've not been anything but up front with you."

"You have had nothing to hide from me because nothing you've done is worth hiding, Kingsley. You're a good, moral, decent person. Save for... for what happened with Hestia... I can't think of a single secret you've ever divulged that pained you to reveal for fear it might make me feel differently about you, whereas I have had to suppress so much..." Her voice cracked and she averted her gaze to the pillow in her lap, tugging on the fringe edges as she so often did her hair. "I only lied by omission because I was terrified you wouldn't love me anymore if you knew."

"But now I know," he said. "And I still love you. I only wish you'd trusted me sooner, before it came to this. It hurts, you know. To know you thought so little of me."

"So little of you? I think the world of you!"

"You thought I'd leave you if I'd known you had sex before marriage, as if that matters. Obviously I haven't a problem with sex before marriage, as we've had a lot of sex and I've never been married, so why didn't you...?"

"It wasn't... I didn't... I just... there's so much... shame... and... and I... I don't know!"

"I had wanted to start off this session talking about the dangers of enabling and the importance of teamwork in regards to maintaining sobriety and being successful in recovery, but it seems that's not the talk you both most need in the moment, so let's stay on this." Healer Smeltwick sipped her tea. "I want to talk about honesty, but I also want to talk about pain, and the reasons honesty may sometimes seem too painful. I think you understand that better than you're letting on, Kingsley. I think you were afraid to confront Andromeda early in her addiction because it was easier to ignore, to pretend it wasn't happening, to avoid a conversation – or confrontation – that would cause you pain. And I think it's fair to say she's felt the same way, that it was better to ignore her past, to pretend it hadn't happened, than to address it with you, potentially causing pain. Am I circling the right Quidditch pitch here?"

Both nodded.

"Alright. Then I believe we have our jumping off point. Let's begin."

The rest of the two hours passed without shouting or even tears, but without much resolution either. They cleared the air on several points, but barely scratched the surface on others, and when one o'clock rolled around, neither was quite sure where they stood.

Adelaide assured both she would see them again at the same time the following Sunday and asked that they keep their promises in mind during the next seven days. Andromeda had promised to try to be more honest and forthcoming with Kingsley. Kingsley had promised to try not to respond with anger or judgment.

When she left, both the Minister and the middle Black sister were emotionally drained and, though they'd been seated the entire time, physically exhausted.

He remained on the couch as she cleared the tea things and finished the breakfast dishes, washing by hand because cleaning was soothing. When she returned to the sitting room he was rubbing his temples.

"One of those headaches?"

"Yes."

"Come here." She sat on the opposite end of the couch and guided him down until his head was on the fringe-lined pillow in her lap. He closed his eyes, folded his hands over his midsection, and relaxed, grateful for her touch. She massaged his head and face the way he liked, the way that made the pain bearable, as they awaited Teddy's return.

"It's not going to be easy," she whispered. "These therapy sessions, staying on the straight and narrow, _being with me._ None of it's going to be easy."

"I don't need easy." He reached up to caress her upper arm. "We've both made mistakes, Andromeda. I am not a perfect person and wish you wouldn't put me on a pedestal. I failed you when you needed me most over this past year, then I cheated on you and wrongly told myself it was justified, even though I knew eventually you would find out, or I would confess to you. In both cases I was being selfish, and you were hurt in the process, as I knew you would be. I have to live with that."

"Will you have dinner with me this week?" She pressed hard on both of his temples with the heels of her hands, then moved them in circles, earning from him a low groan of thanks. "I'll make cottage pie or bubble and squeak, or maybe I'll make a full English. I know you like breakfast for dinner."

"I don't care what you make; I love it when you cook for me."

"I love cooking for you. Your standards are low so you think everything's delicious."

"My standards are high, but you're a good cook, so everything _is_ delicious."

She leaned down to kiss him, which may have progressed to more, but the moment their lips met the fire flared up and out stepped Narcissa with Teddy.

"Nana!"

"Hush, love." She straightened up and went back to massaging his temples. "Kingsley has a headache."

"Sorry," the boy whispered. He tiptoed to the couch and patted Kingsley gently on the top of his bald head. "It's alright. Nana will make you feel better."

"She always does," murmured Kingsley, not opening his eyes. "She always does."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I know this chapter is pretty transitional, but I enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoyed reading it. I'm mapping out the next few chapters and I'm super excited about where this story is going and upcoming scenes. To answer **clarasnotlikely** 's Q, yes, you'll see Hermione and Draco again, and it's in a chapter I'm pretty proud of thus far (though I probably shouldn't say that, as I'll jinx myself and it'll fall apart). Thanks for reviewing! Also huge thanks to **emrldapplejuice** (I wanted to have a sad ending with her dying, I really did, but now I think I just can't bear to!), **KnowInsight** (Thx!), **FrancineHibiscus** (now that Andromeda's home I am looking forward to having Narcissa being more present!), **somethingnew2016** (family life definitely colors the way a child sees herself! And I'm glad you'll be happy to see Dorcas again. I have a few things in store for her), and **PopularCats** (I wasn't planning to show more of her letters to herself but I really should, so maybe!).

 **-AL**

 **PS:** Chapter updated to reflect new title.


	14. Part Two: Week 1

**A/N:**

I decided to rename Chapter 13 since it was the first day of the week and I didn't want to start each chapter with Sunday. So that's the midpoint, and I'm continuing on with each chapter set at the end of each week covering the week prior, same as when she was in rehab, though each chapter may not focus entirely (or even primarily) on the weekend, if that makes sense. That makes this End of Week One.

That said, to answer the Q by **somethingnew2016** , I'm going to go with twelve more chapters for the first twelve weeks out of rehab (which are all mapped out now), giving this fic a total of 25 chapters. A lot longer than I had originally planned, but the more I outlined, the more I wanted to focus as much on the first three months of her life post-rehab as I had the three months she was in the facility because I feel like it matters just as much to her overall recovery. I hope no one minds, and thanks times a thousand for sticking with it! And thanks to **somethingnew2016, KnowInsight, sassanech, Jenna98,** and **FrancineHibiscus** for reviewing!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 **END OF WEEK ONE**

Narcissa wasn't the only one having invasive dreams about her deceased husband.

Andromeda was experiencing the same, she'd been having them all week, but unlike her sister's pleasant sex dreams, hers were nightmares. All of her dreams were nightmares.

She didn't know _how_ Ted was killed or by _whom,_ only that it had happened after being caught by "Snatchers," and though she'd wondered at the time she'd been so busy helping Nymphadora with the baby, and then raising him alone, she hadn't time to dwell on it. Apparently her brain had decided, quite without her permission, that _now_ was peak dwelling time. She'd toss and turn and wake feeling less rested than before she'd closed her eyes, then she would cry and shake and try to forgive the awful images that had been assaulting her in her sleep. She saw him being tortured. Burned. Skinned. Stabbed. Cursed. Turned into an Inferius. Ripped apart by werewolves.

Sometimes she broke down and took Dreamless Sleep, but she feared becoming dependent, so other times she opted for warm milk or a midnight bath. She wished Kingsley would consent to spending the night beside her, but she didn't have to worry about sleeping alone. Teddy made sure of it. He was still stuck to her side, day and night, and sometimes cried if she left the room for too long. He sat outside the bathroom door while she used the loo and sat on the rug beside the tub when she showered. She'd gotten him to stop eating meals on her lap (most of the time, anyway) but he pulled his chair next to hers so they were within reach of each other, and he even declined a Saturday night sleepover invitation from his godfather, Harry Potter, an offer made to give Andromeda some much needed space. She had no idea how she was going to get him out of the house for Sunday's therapy session, except to have Narcissa again scoop him up and drag him away.

In short, it was becoming a real problem.

On Wednesday, Kingsley came over for dinner, as invited. She made his favorite comfort food, cottage pie, and they drank Butterbeer, which had become her evening regular in place of the red wine and whisky she strongly preferred. She also started drinking bottled Coke like a Muggle. Ted used to enjoy it, and though she'd never been a fan of fizzy drinks, she couldn't help feeling that it tasted like him (which made it go down easier).

During dinner, she and Kingsley chatted about nothing of substance, and Teddy showed off the new ways he'd learned to morph his nose. He was starting to be able to better control the changes, just as Nymphadora had at his age. This is what led to Andromeda and Ted having to hire help with her, being that she was a special child, and with each day Andromeda fretted over the possibility she'd have to do the same with Teddy but wouldn't be able to. She simply couldn't afford it. If her house hadn't been paid off years ago, she'd be out on the streets already. There was next to nothing in her Gringotts account and she was already worried about what would happen when the bread and eggs and canned goods and fruits Kingsley supplied ran out. She refused to ask him for money for more, and she wouldn't lower herself to borrowing from her sister either.

She simply had to find a new job.

She scoured the Help Wanted and Now Hiring ads in the Prophet and applied for eleven positions in her first five days, receiving seven swift professionally worded rejection letters, three rejections by way of the return of her CV, and one letter from a shop owner who informed her he needed "a respectable witch" at his front counter, but would be happy to find her "a prominent position in the back" so long as she didn't tell his wife.

"I'm going to end up at the bloody betting parlor brothel," she muttered on Friday morning as she tore the shop owner's vile response into tiny pieces.

"What, Nana?" Teddy looked up from his porridge. She shook her head and tried to smile reassuringly.

"Nothing, love. Eat your fruit. It's good for you."

He picked up a strawberry. She was reaching for one too when there was a knock at the door. She told Teddy to stay put and keep eating, then rose to answer it. She was quite surprised to find Severus Snape alone on the step, looking out of place in the Muggle neighborhood even though he literally lived right next door.

"Why not Floo?"

"We're out of powder."

"Oh. Come in. Have you eaten?"

"Yes. Butters makes sure of it." Butters was their house-elf, the one Narcissa had brought with her from the sprawling Black family home to the Malfoys' Manor and finally to the modest house she shares with Snape.

"Why are you here?" Andromeda headed back toward the kitchen, knowing if she didn't return promptly Teddy would start to panic. "Nothing nefarious, I hope."

"I don't think Narcissa loves me anymore."

Andromeda froze. Whatever she might have guessed he'd come for, this wasn't it. Slowly she turned to face him. He was still standing by the closed door, his face unreadable, his body stiff.

"Er... what?"

"I can't be certain; she's as good an Occlumens as I am, but I _am_ intuitive, and..." He blinked slowly and avoided her eye. "Has she said anything to you? Has she met someone else? Does she intend to leave me?"

Andromeda's heart broke just a little as she recognized the evidence of self-doubt, and of self-loathing, swirling in his impossibly dark eyes. She'd seen that same look in the mirror countless times.

"What? No! Please, Severus. Come in." She reached for his wrist, pulling him toward the kitchen. "Come sit, have some fruit. Coffee. Sit down."

"I cannot stay." He sat, though, and nodded his thanks when she set a mug of hot coffee down in front of him. "I have to get to work. The apothecary..."

"The apothecary is doing well and your assistants can manage a short time without you."

"I shouldn't have come to you," he said, his voice wooden and face purposely expressionless. "It's... inappropriate. I apologize. But I am at a loss. If she leaves, if she takes Hope and returns to Malfoy Manor... it would be the worst thing... It would be as bad as losing Lily... Worse. It would... I would never recover."

"She's not going to do that!"

"Are you taking me some place?" asked Teddy in an accusatory tone, glaring at his great-uncle. "I don't want to go! I want Nana."

"Hush, Teddy, eat your breakfast." Unable to let anyone go hungry in her presence, Andromeda set a small plate in front of Severus, onto which she placed a piece of buttered toast and two strawberries. "Severus, I cannot betray my sister's confidence, but trust me when I say that leaving you is not on her mind."

"She's been acting... distant. Secretive. Having nightmares. Spending more time with Draco and less time at home. Leaving me with the baby. Snapping at the dog."

"The dog aside, can't you think of any reason she might be acting this way _now,_ Severus?" Andromeda placed the milk in front of him, unsure of how he liked his coffee. She put a ton of sugar in hers, to mask the bitter taste. (She used to like her coffee with a little whisky.) "Can you think of _any_ cause for her sudden change? Any reason this is a difficult _time_ in her life?"

He stopped pouring and stared at her, one eyebrow raised. After a too-long silence, he said, "No?"

"Think about it!" Andromeda's face clearly read _men are idiots,_ which would have annoyed him if he weren't so worried. "What month is it, Severus? What year? Bloody hell, you have me take Hope every Halloween for a reason, don't you? Put it together."

"Fuck." He pressed his palms to his brows, closing his eyes momentarily as it hit him. "It's August. It's August, 2003. Their anniversary is later this month. Thirty years."

"Precisely!" She used her wand to send the milk back to the refrigerator. "She's missing him and she feels guilty about it, as if by still grieving him she's being unfaithful to you. She doesn't want to leave you, and she's certainly not seeing someone else, she's being secretive because she doesn't want to hurt you." Adelaide's words from her previous therapy session popped into her head. _I want to talk about pain, and the reason honesty may sometimes seem too painful._ "She's hiding her feelings to spare you."

"How could I have been such a dunderhead?" He set down the coffee, having taken only a couple of sips, and stood. He remained his stoic self, but that flicker of despair in his pupils had dissipated. He hadn't touched the toast or fruit. "The thought did not even cross my mind. I'll find a way to bring it up to her tonight, but not mention you had to enlighten me. I'd rather she not know I came crying to her sister."

"You're welcome," she said, smiling. "As a token of your appreciation, would you be so kind as to provide me with another couple of doses of Dreamless Sleep? I'll pay for them as soon as I have a job."

"Family doesn't pay. I'll bring them by tonight." He patted Teddy affectionately on the head, relief evident not only in his face, but in his entire demeanor. "Thank you."

He started to head back toward the door.

"Severus?" called Andromeda. He poked his head back in the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"You might want to pull her hair once in awhile, too. Don't be gentle. Surprise her. Some witches are into that."

He cleared his throat and nodded as if she'd suggested he buy the woman flowers.

"Yes, I suppose I can... oblige." He straightened his frock coat. "Good day."

"Good day."

She hoped it would indeed be a good day, despite starting with that dreadful letter. Kingsley was set to come over for dinner again and she was making another of his favorites, beef wellington, though buying the necessary ingredients further depleted her vault, leaving her with fewer than five galleons to her name. She wasn't sure why she'd even decided to make it, as he'd likely be just as happy with a fry-up or fish and chips, but she wanted to impress him. He'd enjoyed the meal the other night, or so he said, but he hadn't stayed long after it was finished. He said he had an early morning and needed a full night's rest, but she couldn't help spending the next several hours wondering whether he just hadn't wanted to lose control and spend night with her, or - worse - whether he had plans to spend the night with someone else.

When they first started dating, she frequently selected meals to make based solely on how much she thought each would impress him, until she figured out his favorites and made them her regular repertoire, much to his high praise and obvious satisfaction. She often felt she wasn't good at much, and though she downplayed her skills in the kitchen, she truly was an impressive chef. And she wanted to remind him of this, to remind him of how much he used to enjoy eating her cooking and helping her clean up the kitchen, and how they'd save puddings for after Teddy was asleep... how they'd sometimes end up with more chocolate sauce or whipped cream on each other than on their ice cream...

She started cooking hours before he was scheduled to arrive, while Teddy sat at the kitchen table with several of his Quidditch figures, little plastic players who stalked around and zoomed on tiny broomsticks, occasionally crashing into each other and landing on the floor. He didn't like beef wellington, so he'd be having leftover butter chicken and chips.

"Where did you get those?" she asked as she switched the oven on to preheat.

"Harry. He taked me to the Quidditch supply shop and they got toys there now."

"You love spending time with Harry, don't you? And Ginny? She plays Quidditch too, remember? On a professional team, you've seen her. She'll be going back soon as the baby's big enough. Don't they play with you sometimes?"

"Yes." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, already able to read her even at only five years old. "But I'm _not_ going for a sleepover. I want to stay here, with you."

"I'm giving you one more week, love, then you have to return to your own bed. Alright?"

"No. I want to sleep with you."

"One more week."

"No! Forever and ever."

"Two more weeks, then." She sat across from him at the table, her hands folded in front of her, a look on her face so serious it was as if they were sitting down for hostage negotiations. He set down his Viktor Krum figure and regarded her carefully, just as serious.

"No, Nana. Ten more weeks."

"Three weeks and that's final."

"No." Teddy put Krum back on his broom and let him soar up to the ceiling. "Twenty more weeks."

"That's not how negotiations work." Without breaking eye contact, she snatched Krum from the air like a Seeker catching the Snitch. "As I go higher, you go lower, until we meet in the middle. So let's try again. Two more weeks."

"Five more weeks." He crossed his arms over his chest, his little nose in the air.

"Three more weeks."

"One hundred more weeks!"

"This isn't working." She handed him his toy and returned to the oven to double-check the temperature. "We'll talk about it later."

A short time after five, there was a knock at their door. She answered it with Teddy by her side. It was not Kingsley, but Severus and Narcissa with Hope. And Duchess.

"I brought you more Dreamless Sleep," said Severus, holding out a bag in which he'd carefully placed several vials while at work earlier. "I thought you might need it."

"He forgot to buy Floo Powder," said Narcissa, sounding annoyed. She set down the almost three-year-old girl, who grabbed Teddy by the hand and pulled him toward the sitting room to play with the two new dollies she'd brought, chattering on about their lovely dresses and beautiful hair. He sent a pained glance back at his Nana, who waved him along.

"I'm almost done cooking," said Andromeda. "Come into the kitchen?"

They followed her, the dog on their heels.

"It smells delicious, Meda. Beef wellington?"

"Yes. It's for Kingsley. I'd invite you to stay, but..."

"But you'd prefer to have the Minister all to yourself?" Narcissa smiled conspiratorially, her blue eyes sparkling. "Should we take Teddy home with us?"

"Don't dare suggest it!" Andromeda's gaze flickered toward the doorway. "If he hears you, he'll affix himself to me like a baby koala."

Narcissa and Severus sat while Andromeda checked the oven. Duchess curled up by Severus's feet.

"Since you're here, I have a question, Severus." Andromeda, satisfied her meal was shaping up nicely, joined them at the table. "Do you remember a girl named Dorcas Kensington? She was briefly a Hogwarts student, brought to the school by my sister over Christmas holiday, 1997."

"Of course. While I cannot recall the names and faces of every student, that was not an everyday occurrence. Bellatrix turned up with the girl one night. She looked like she'd just crawled out from under a Knockturn Alley betting parlor regular. I was worried she might be carrying something."

"Like a disease?" asked Narcissa.

"Or fleas," he replied.

"Well, you'd know fleas." Narcissa glared down at Duchess, who swished her tail back and forth across the floor, her tongue lolled out as if in a grin.

"I'm saying she looked a common slattern, in a dingy low-cut bodice and torn skirt, with so much rouge and blue eyeshadow her face looked like the Union Jack. She was clearly a slag."

Andromeda's eyes flashed dangerously at the description, but as the man had been scratching his dog behind the ears, he didn't notice.

"That 'slag' was a patient at the facility. I ate meals with her most days. She happens to be a charming person who's had an exceptionally difficult life, despite barely being out of childhood."

"Ah." He motioned for the dog to lay down, glancing at her apologetically. "I did not mean any offense."

"She said you weren't willing to let her stay at school, but Bella took you into a back room and convinced you to change your position."

"That is true."

"How? You are generally a stubborn man, and not the most empathetic. So how did she convince you to change position?"

"Yes, Severus!" Now Narcissa was the one with dangerously flashing eyes. _"How_ did my sister convince you to change position?"

"Not like that! But it's fascinating to know you both think so little of me, you assume I'd have shagged your loathsome sister - with a teenage girl in the next room, no less." He sounded genuinely hurt.

The sisters exchanged a glance, Narcissa muttered an apology, and Andromeda heaved a deep sigh.

"I am not trying to accuse you of wrongdoing," she assured him. "I simply want to know. I want to know what was said... by you and by Bella."

"She told me to accept the girl. I said no. She demanded we discuss it in private. I took her into the sitting room off of the Headmaster's office to spare the girl's feelings, not to get her alone. I informed Bellatrix I was sympathetic to the girl's plight, but that Hogwarts was not a halfway house for underage whores."

Andromeda gritted her teeth. She was getting damn sick of that fucking word and anything synonymous with it.

"I then advised Bellatrix to take the girl back to the gutter from which she'd crawled. I realize, in retrospect, that this was cruel and unnecessary on my part, as the girl was clearly underage and suffering." He glanced toward the doorway, through which the giggles of the children wafted, clearly thinking now of his own daughter. "I had nothing against the child, please understand, and on a personal level it sickened me to think of grown men hiring her for... such purposes... but I greatly enjoyed goading and frustrating your sister." He switched his gaze from Andromeda to Narcissa. "You know how much I hated her."

"I know."

He went on. "She offered me my pick of 'fifty galleons or a good fuck' - her words - to take the girl. I informed her I needed neither, especially not from her, as I considered her body as dirty as her money."

"Was she?" asked Andromeda, curious about this for the first time. "Was she dirty? Like that?"

"Dirty in that she rarely washed her hair," he said offhandedly, as if the same couldn't easily been said of him, "But not in the way that I meant it. Again, I was trying to get under her skin, that's all."

"What next?" asked Narcissa, moving her chair closer to his. He shrugged.

"Next, she threatened me. She said she would tell the Dark Lord I was really Dumbledore's man unless I did what she wanted. This, even though I'd killed him six months earlier. I merely laughed and invited her to use _my_ Dark Mark to summon our mutual master."

"Oh, Severus, you didn't!" Narcissa shook her head and rubbed her fingertips gently over his sleeve-covered forearm, where the mark was safely hidden from view.

"I did, but she would not be swayed. She simply switched tactics. First she pouted and whined, trying to appeal to my sense of decency - 'How could you let a little girl go back to that life when you alone have the power to redirect her path?' to which I laughed again and said sympathy didn't suit her. Then she said, 'If you won't do it under threat of punishment from the Dark Lord, I'll run to Lucius instead.'"

"To Lucius?" Narcissa and Andromeda echoed in unison.

"She said..." He cleared his throat, looking rather uncomfortable, even more so than he had at the very same table that morning. "She said she would tell Lucius she could see the way I looked at his wife... that it was improper, that she knew what I was thinking, and that he should do something about it."

"The way you looked at me?" Narcissa didn't seem to know whether she should be bothered by this or touched. "Did you look at me then?"

"I've looked at you always. But I never... I would not have... He was my friend. And there was nothing untoward about it. I was in love with Lily, but I looked at you the way an appreciator of fine art would a newly discovered Van Gogh. Not the way a hard-up customer would have looked at that young girl."

Narcissa smiled and brought his hand up to her lips to kiss each of his fingertips in turn while batting her lashes at him. Andromeda pantomimed vomiting at this display, glad she and Kingsley were not so prone to such sickeningly sweet public displays of affection.

"Grow up," admonished Narcissa. "You're fifty."

"Fuck off. Severus, continue, please. Was that what convinced you to keep the girl?"

"Yes." He sighed. "I told Bellatrix that her accusation was absurd, but if she was so desperate to place the girl under my care that she would stoop to hurting her own sister without cause, I'd be the bigger person and acquiesce. She beamed, said she would send money for supplies and a new wardrobe, and told me to go to her if the girl needed anything. I asked where her parents were and she said 'You ensure she gets a good education and I'll handle the rest.' I said fine, we shook on it, and that was all. She left, I gave the girl a button-down shirt to wear over her... bodice... we Sorted her into Hufflepuff, and Sprout took her from there."

"What did you tell Sprout?"

"That she was fourteen and had never been to school, but her newly appointed guardian wanted her educated. I can't say I kept track of her after that. I had far more important things on my mind than the settling in of a wayward girl with a questionable past. Why was she at the facility?"

"Her mother forced her back into prostitution as soon as Bellatrix was dead. She never returned to school, and eventually turned to drugs to escape the pain of her situation." Andromeda rose from the table, wishing it wouldn't be impolite to kick them out now. She needed to think on this, to process it, and though she believed Severus when he said he'd only been an arse to bother Bella, she was wounded by the words he'd used to describe young Dorcas. She therefore busied herself with the side dishes while employing Occlumency, though she wasn't as good at it as either of them. She would not be capable of keeping them out of her thoughts if they really wanted in as she hadn't had cause to practice much over the last thirty years as they had.

"I'm sorry," said Severus quietly, genuinely. "The girl deserved better."

"Yes," agreed Andromeda, checking the potatoes. "She did."

Severus and Narcissa left shortly thereafter with Hope and Duchess in tow. Teddy trailed into the kitchen to "help" Andromeda finish dinner and it wasn't long before Kingsley Flooed in.

"What's this?" he asked in his familiar, deep voice, the voice she loved more than she'd care to admit. "Beef wellington?"

"Yes," she said, as if surprised he'd guessed. "I was in the mood. You like it, right? If not, you can share the butter chicken with Teddy."

"Beef wellington is one of my favorite dishes." He came across the kitchen to kiss her on the forehead, then wiped away a streak of mashed potatoes off her cheek. He sucked it off his thumb, smiling. "Delicious."

"Brussels sprouts too."

"Aren't they out of season?" He tucked her hair behind her ear. She couldn't help melting a little closer to him, shooting up a flirtatious smile.

"Yes. But I'm magic."

If Teddy wasn't sitting there at the table staring at them, Kingsley would have snogged her properly by now, but alas - though they had occasionally risked getting caught in a compromising position, neither was keen on performing before a pint-sized audience. Plus, they had promised Healer Smelthwick they'd try to abstain, at least for a little longer until some of their issues had been discussed.

Over dinner, they talked about the same meaningless sorts of things they had on Wednesday. The weather. The news. The Ministry (but no mention of Hestia). The Chudley Canons. Harry and Ginny's not-quite-three-month-old baby.

"Baby James!" Teddy sat up on his knees, making himself taller at the table, a vinegar soaked chip in his hand. "He's my godbrother!"

"He's your what?" asked Andromeda.

"Godbrother! Harry says 'cause he's my godfather, baby James is my godbrother!"

"Cute." Andromeda tussled his hair, smiling. "Sit on your bottom."

"I want a real brother," said Teddy, obeying her order. He bit the tip off the chip and swallowed without chewing. "Hope's got a brother. Freddy Weasley's gettin' a brother. Aunt Ginny's got lots and lots of brothers. Can I get a brother?"

"No." Andromeda tapped his plate, a nonverbal reminder he needed to eat the chicken and brussels sprouts too.

"But you can be my mummy and you can have a baby and it can be a brother and I can-"

 _"No,"_ she interrupted with an inflection that told him to drop it. "Teddy, eat your healthy foods."

"Whyyy Nana?" he whined, pouting. "I waaaaant a brotherrr."

"No, Teddy."

"Pleeeeease? You can-"

"I said no, Teddy."

"But whyyyyyyy?"

"Teddy, you cannot have a brother because brothers... brothers are what it's called when a mummy and daddy... you get a brother when your mother... Brothers are..." She took the chip out of his hand and placed it on her plate, then pointed to his brussels sprouts, clearly exasperated.

"But whyyyyyyy? Naaannaaaa. It's not faaairr!" He picked up a brussels sprout and slammed it down on the table. "I want a brother!"

"Edward Remus Lupin, you _cannot_ have a brother _because I said so_ and that's _final._ Now stop asking me and eat your bloody chicken."

Teddy looked taken aback; his eyes watered and blinked rapidly as if he might cry. She never spoke to him so harshly. He reached for the sprout, placing it back on his plate without taking his eyes off her. His button nose twitched.

"Andromeda," said Kingsley in a soft, almost warning tone. "He doesn't understand and he doesn't mean anything by it."

"He needs to learn!" She slammed her hand on the table, which she immediately regretted. "Excuse me, I need... I'll be right back." She left the kitchen and started for the stairs, as if heading up to the loo, but as soon as she was out of sight she dropped to a step and covered her face with her hands. She wasn't angry with him, not really, but she was exhausted... and not at all in the mood to explain that only kids with parents get to have or become brothers.

"Teddy," said Kingsley. There was a pause. Andromeda heard a sniffle, Teddy's sniffle; immediately her hand went to the back of her head, to the little hairs at the nape of her neck. She tugged one out. Kingsley spoke again. "Alright, Teddy?"

"Nana's mad at me." He was almost definitely crying. She wanted to cry too.

"She's not," said Kingsley. "Come here."

There was a scraping noise as a chair was moved and then an 'oomph' sound. She imagined the boy sitting in the Minister's lap.

"Nana is not angry, she's sad. Hope has a brother because her mummy has another child. Ginny has brothers because her mum and dad have six other children. Freddy is getting a new brother because George and Angelina - his parents - chose to have a second child. But your mummy can't have more children, because she's gone. You're the only one she has and the only one she'll ever have, and that makes Nana sad."

"Nana is sad 'cause I can't get more brothers?"

"Nana is sad because your mummy is gone, and she misses her, just like you do."

"But I don't," said Teddy innocently. "I don't miss Mummy. I don't even know her."

Andromeda clapped her hand over her mouth, having gasped out loud. They didn't seem to have heard her. Now her nose was twitching as her grandson's had been, and she knew her eyes were just as watery. She blinked back the tears.

"You were a baby when she died."

Andromeda envisioned Kingsley hugging Teddy, comforting him, as she should be. She should be the one holding him now, the one having this conversation, but she couldn't seem to pull herself up from the stair.

"I don't memember."

" _Re_ member," Kingsley corrected. "I know you don't, but a lot of people who love you do. I remember her, and Harry remembers her, and Ginny and the Weasleys. Hermione, of course, and Uncle Severus, too. We can tell you about her. And about your father."

"Nana calls him 'the werewolf.'"

"Does she?" He let out a long, slow breath and Andromeda winced, certain he was judging her for that. She should really stop doing it, now that Teddy was old enough to internalize and repeat the negative things she had a tendency to tell Narcissa while the kids were playing.

"He was indeed a werewolf, but he was also a good friend, a brave man, and a war hero. He was a professor at Hogwarts too, did you know? He taught Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny. And your mummy was an Auror, like Harry is now. She was enchanting and intelligent and she liked to help people."

"I want a mummy and dad like Hope," said Teddy. He lowered his voice, but Andromeda could still hear him. "Sometimes, when Nana's sleeping, I call _her_ mummy. And when she was sick, before I getted you in the Floo, I said 'Wake up, Mummy!' over and over but she didn't open her eyes."

At that, Andromeda nearly sent a Patronus to Healer Smelthwick to beg her to come immediately instead of Sunday, because she couldn't think how she was going to get _those_ words out of her head without the assistance of something highly addictive and blissfully mind-numbing.

"She would have opened her eyes if she could have," said Kingsley. "But she was _very_ sick."

"She's all better now?"

Andromeda lifted her head. How would the man answer this? There was a long, painful pause during which she tried to picture them together on the kitchen chair, food forgotten.

"Not _all_ better," said Kingsley finally. "But she's getting better every day."

She forced herself upstairs to splash water on her face and take deep breaths, as Adelaide advised when feeling overwhelmed, then grounded herself by whispering aloud all the elements in the room: "Sink straight in front of me, tub to the right. Door the left, towel wrack behind me..."

When she reentered the kitchen, Teddy had eaten all of his butter chicken and Kingsley was helping himself to a third piece of beef wellington.

"Alright?" he asked. She kissed the top of Teddy's head and retook her seat.

"Not yet, but I'm getting better every day."

A flicker of worry passed across his face, but she quickly reached out to take his hand, mouthing 'thank you,' with a slight jerk of the head in Teddy's direction. Kingsley nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips.

After dinner they cleaned up, as always, and Teddy had his pudding. He fell asleep sitting in the center of the sofa. She was afraid to wake him by bringing him up to bed, so they talked quietly for a couple of hours with him between them. When he left, he kissed her gently, thanked her for dinner, and promised to see her again for Sunday's appointment.

She let Teddy sleep in her bed that night and the next, and promised she would again for the rest of the week as a bribe to get him to go with Narcissa before the eleven o'clock therapy session, though the blonde still had to physically pry him off his grandmother.

"Today," said Healer Smelthwick, setting into her chair across from the couple on the couch. "Let's talk about enabling. It's a discussion I wanted to have better explored last week, but we ran out of time."

"No," said Andromeda, playing with the pillow fringe as she had the week before. "Forgive me, but I think we need to talk about Teddy."


	15. Part Two: Week 2

**PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

 **END OF WEEK TWO**

Andromeda, still battling insomnia dotted by nightmares and seeking a new vice, decided to take up the fine art of cigarette smoking.

Kingsley, not a fan of the smell, subsequently took up the fine art of pointing his wand at her and saying "Aquamenti." Most of the time the jet stream of water came in direct contact with the ashy tip, putting it out. Once in awhile he "missed" and simply splashed her in the face.

"I know you think you're a laugh," she said dryly on Thursday, after three days of this nonsense. "But you're doing nothing more or less than demonstrating your own intense immaturit-" _(Splash!)_ "Kingsley!"

Though she had the cigarette between her fingers as she'd been speaking, he'd gotten her in the face again. They were seated at the table after dinner. Teddy was in the sitting room, playing with his toys. He'd finally started letting her out of his sight for short periods, but only because she'd started putting him to work whenever he seemed to have idle hands, and he wasn't enjoying putting away dishes or folding towels.

"Oh, sorry," said Kingsley, looking not sorry at all. "I thought it was in your mouth. I may need eyeglasses."

"Do that again and you're going to need a Healer skilled in the removal of festering boils," she snapped, punctuating her sentence by stabbing the air with the lit tip of the cigarette. She used a napkin to wipe the dripping water from her face. "Don't think I won't retaliate."

"Threatening the Minister for Magic?" He pressed his palm to his chest with mock appall. "You could be arrested for that!"

"I'm not at all frightened," said Andromeda, glaring back boldly, annoyed by his smirk. "I've already been to Azkaban, remember? Aside from worrying I'd die of ennui, it wasn't the worst place I've ever spent a few days."

"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair, cockily. "I heard you cried yourself to sleep every night."

"You must be confusing me with my sister, sir." She tossed her hair, but the effect was not as strong now that it was shorter and straighter. "I'm not a little bitch like Bellatrix was."

His smirk became a grin as he stood and bent down, putting his lips to her ear.

"Go on, then. If you fancy a fag, have one. Two, even. Ignore my objections, continue smoking." He was keeping his voice low and rumbly in a way that made her stomach clench and her thighs ache. It had been far too long since they were last intimate... the closest they'd come since her release from the facility was that first morning in the kitchen, which Adelaide interrupted. She fought a shiver as his lips brushed her earlobe. "But I'm giving it two more days, Andromeda Tonks, and then, if you still haven't wizened up and quit, I'm telling Teddy it's a habit that could _kill_ you. Do you miss having him attached to you like a wart on a toad? Do you want him underfoot after dinner every night as he was last week? Do you enjoy answering his questions about Quidditch and Dementors through the shower curtain while you're trying to wash your hair?" He kissed the spot just before her ear and straightened. "He'll _never_ return to his own bed if he thinks you're slowly dying on account of-"

"You're a horrible person." She stubbed the cigarette out in a small glass ashtray that had belonged to Ted, who fancied occasional cigars. "I don't enjoy smoking anyway. They ought to make a Bertie Botts bean out of it. It would be worse than earthworm and earwax."

"Though not as bad as vomit?"

"I've never had a vomit flavored one, thank Merlin, so I can't say."

Setting aside her annoyance, she washed the dishes by hand and he dried them by magic, then they both joined Teddy in the sitting room. It was getting dark, the time Teddy generally reverted back to babyhood. Sure enough, as soon as Andromeda had settled herself on the couch, he abandoned his toys on the floor and crawled into her lap. He then stuck two fingers in his mouth, snuggled against her chest, and mumbled, "Nana? I want sleep with you," same as he had every night since their failed negotiations the week before.

"It's not bedtime, Teddy. And you promised tonight you'd go to sleep without me."

"I want Nana's bed."

"I'll put you to sleep in my bed, but you have to stay there after I leave the room. I'll join you when it's my bedtime, by which time I expect you to be asleep."

"Nana cuddles Teddy night-night time?"

"Use your five-year-old words," she corrected gently. "And take your fingers out of your mouth so I can understand you."

He answered with a whine of protest, closed his eyes, and sucked harder on his fingers. She looked to Kingsley and sighed. He gestured apologetically. Shortly thereafter, even though it was before his bedtime, she brought him upstairs, sat beside him in her bed, and read four stories by request. He held onto her sleeve with the fingers on the hand not in his mouth, rubbing the fabric between them, the way he used to do with her hair when it was long and he was littler.

Nymphadora had not been like this. When she wanted hugs and cuddles, she knew to go to her father, because Andromeda, though she loved the child, was not the overly affectionate type. With Teddy, it was different. _She_ was different. She had to be. He wasn't as accepting of her aloofness as Nymphadora had been... and she no longer had Ted to balance her out.

At their last therapy session, Adelaide hadn't wanted to talk about Teddy. She said she was sorry, but she had no experience in healing children, and could therefore give advice only as a mother and not in a professional capacity, much to Andromeda's disappointment. She did offer to put her in touch with a Healer who specialized in children and child trauma, but Andromeda, knowing she couldn't afford such a thing and too proud to accept even more help from her sort-of-boyfriend, said no thank you.

Then Adelaide tried to talk about enabling instead.

And Andromeda tried to change the subject again.

"Is there a reason you don't wish to discuss this?" asked Healer Smelthwick, regarding her patient carefully. Andromeda, who was again playing with the fringe on her pillow, shook her head.

"Of course not. I simply think there are more important things..."

"She's less tense when she's been drinking," interrupted Kingsley. "It helps her to sleep, helps her to be more agreeable in social settings, helps her sit and relax instead of cleaning and reorganizing every bloody thing in the house. As long as she wasn't getting to the point of passing out on a regular basis, I thought the positives outweighed the negatives, and, ultimately, that is why I continued to supply her with alcohol even though I knew she had a problem. I was indeed enabling her - and I was being selfish."

Andromeda's jaw dropped like that of a cartoon character.

"Thank you for your candor, Minister," said Adelaide, looking just as surprised.

"I couldn't quite tell you why when we spoke before," he went on, his attention fixed entirely on the Healer, as he couldn't bare to look at his lover. "I don't believe I knew. On some level I did, of course, but it wasn't as if I'd made a conscious, carefully weighed decision to forgo what was smart by handing her a glass of wine after dinner each night or ordering her a flute of champagne at Ministry events or sharing with her a bottle of firewhisky while on holiday. It was clear that she was more agitated and high-strung when stone sober, and less so after a drink or two. I did not intervene because it was easier not to - and because I like her when she's not quite so..." He stole a glance in her direction, a guilty look on his face. "Stressed."

"You like me better when I've been drinking?" The tremor in her voice was clear; her pain was palpable. He immediately felt like a arsehole and moved to take her hand, but she pulled away, holding it protectively to her chest.

"You are hard working and under a lot of pressure, having to be Teddy's sole parent and provider. You clean compulsively and cannot fall asleep, and you've said yourself that formal situations make you uncomfortable. After a drink or two..."

"Do you even love me, then?" she asked, a hint of panic in her deep-set dark eyes. "Do you love _me_ or do you only love the person I am when I've been drinking? Do you-"

"Yes! Andromeda, yes, I love you."

This time she let him take her hand between both of his. Hers were ice cold; his felt like they'd been held out in front of the fire, toasty warm, but not sweaty.

"But you've just said..."

"I like to see you relax because you seem happier, and I like for you to be happy. But I genuinely love you for the ornery, difficult, manipulative and unaffectionate person you are."

"This is why we're not married," she quipped to Adelaide. "His proposal started off the same way."

"It did not." He chuckled, kissed the back of her hand, and placed it back on the pillow in her lap. He again looked to Healer Smelthwick. "I know it sounds contrary, but it's true. I love that she's ornery and headstrong and a master manipulator, I find these qualities in her both amusing and endearing, and I don't mind that she does not enjoy being cuddled or held because it makes it all the better when she consents to it."

"But you encouraged her to continue drinking when you knew she should not." The healer regarded him sternly. This was one of the primary reasons she had not so long ago encouraged her fragile patient to break it off with the man, and the basis of her long lecture when he'd taken Teddy for a visit and she'd requested he leave the boy with his grandmother to sit in her office for some time. Though he seemed dedicated to the greater good of the wizarding world, it was the healer's opinion he seemed to forget about his girlfriend's 'greater good,' breaking facility rules by having sex when it was forbidden, not stepping in sooner despite knowing there was a problem, continuing to supply her with alcohol, and, most unfortunately, cheating on her with his assistant. These were the actions of a selfish man, and he had admitted to having acted selfishly, but still, she couldn't help thinking this relationship was not in Andromeda Tonks' best interest. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

"I did," Kingsley admitted, having the decency to look remorseful. "I did and I regret it now. I also regret not intervening once I knew what was happening with Rowle, what she was getting from him..." His voice hardened. "And giving to him."

"Don't throw that back in my face!" she snapped. "I fucked him, I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about it now!"

"Who's throwing it back in your face?" he kept his voice calm, docile, which, as usual, only made her angrier. "Certainly not I. I recognize that you were not in your right mind and have therefore forgiven you your indiscretion, as I hope you will someday forgive me for mine."

"It may seem hypocritical, but it's harder for me! You _loved her_ once. I _loathed_ him. He is of no threat to us as a... as a 'whatever we are.' But that woman..."

"I assure you, she and I are colleagues and nothing more."

"But you slept with her how many times?!"

"You slept with him how many times?"

"It's not a... not a bloody... Ugh!" She took a breath and started again. "What is your intention? To shag other witches until you've reached the same number of times he and I..." She remained flustered, but she puffed herself up, opting for fury over hurt. "Do you... Should I give you an estimation to make it easier, then? Go through my calendar and figure out precisely on how many occasions I had to debase myself because I was too broke and couldn't get by without a fix, add up all the times I had to grit my teeth and spread my legs and pretend to be elsewhere while under him because it was the only way I could..." Her voice quivered and cracked. She dug her short nails into the down of the pillow. "And then you can take that rough number and... and if your 'colleague' isn't interested, perhaps you can find a girl like Dorcas outside the betting parlor, and even up the score, and then we..."

"Andromeda, let's take a breath," said the Healer in a soothing tone. "Let's take several."

There was a long pause during which no one quite looked at anyone else, while both people on the couch worked to steady and control their breathing.

"After our fight," Kingsley said slowly, softly, breaking the silence. "I returned home and cried until I had one of my headaches."

Andromeda, her chin ducked almost to her chest, gazed up at him, blinking her long, dark lashes to keep the tears from coming.

"You?" she whispered. "You cried? You never cry. You cry less than I do, and until I was committed, I never - well, _rarely_ \- cried."

"I hated knowing how I'd hurt you." He folded his own hands neatly in his lap and stared down at them. This was not a common look for him, as he was always strong, powerful, in control, never one to shy away or bow his head in shame. "I hated myself because aside from that first night with her, when I was too pissed to properly consider the ramifications for my actions, I engaged with her knowing you would inevitably find out, and it would hurt you. I hated myself for disrespecting her too, because I did what I did out of anger directed at you and not out of any lingering affection for her."

Andromeda chewed her lip and considered this. It hadn't occurred to her to feel sympathy for the home-wrecker, only contempt, but perhaps she was being unfair. Kingsley continued.

"I hated the mental image of you sinking to the floor and sobbing, threatening to Crucio me as your sister did the Longbottoms, collapsing as if physically wounded by what I'd done, and yet my brain saw fit to replay it over and over on a loop. And I felt sickened with guilt over having slept with you that afternoon. Much like that first time in the storeroom, I wanted you and so I had you, and that, too, was selfish."

Andromeda could not bear to look him in the face, so she concentrated on the ornate gold stitching at the wrists of his vibrant violet wizards robes. How she loved the way he dressed. Impeccable, beautiful, exuding class.

"I hated the thought that I may have irreparably damaged whatever we still had," he went on with a slight shake of the head, clearly genuinely remorseful. "I hated myself because I had ample opportunity to intervene long before Teddy forced my hand, and no matter what happens with us in the future, I shall always have to live with knowing he might have found you dead on the floor that day, and it would have been my fault."

"Not your fault," she whispered, leaning toward him, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and kiss his cheeks and send Healer Smelthwick out of the home so she could take him upstairs to her bed to reassure him there was hope for them still. "I chose to start drinking again after I went to the facility with my sister. She stayed sober while I continued to play with fire, even though thirty years as an alcoholic had already taught me I cannot eat my cake and have it too - I cannot maintain sobriety and imbibe." She shifted slightly closer to him on the couch. "I chose to return to using elven herb as I had in my younger years, and I chose to seek out Thorfinn Rowle for the concoction that would lead to me becoming a full-on addict. _I_ made those choices, Kingsley, not you. And I could have asked for help at any time, but the longer it went on, the less I wanted to stop... and the more I just wanted to die."

His next words were uttered in a whisper so low, they were nearly inaudible:

"I hate that you wanted to die."

Through the rest of the session, Healer Smelthwick talked with both of them again about the importance of maintaining sobriety and how it should be a team effort, just as it was in the life of Narcissa Malfoy, whose husband, son, and future daughter-in-law were all dedicated to ensuring she not lose herself to those particular spirits again. She also helped them to role-play, to practice turning down an offered drink at a social gathering without drawing attention, and reminded Andromeda that she'd spent a lot of time in group therapy focused on the topic of methods of relaxation that were not dependent upon the consumption of substances.

That was Sunday. Now it was Friday, and in forty-eight hours the Healer would return.

Though he'd been over for dinner almost every night that week, Kingsley had a Ministry dinner to attend Friday. It was the annual one at which the international wizarding community indulges the press. He had asked Andromeda to be his date, but between the fact that alcohol would undoubtedly be served and the fact that the press had only recently reported she was a career whore, she did not think it would be a good idea for either of them. He decided to take elderly Porpentina Goldstein Scamander instead, as her husband had passed away over the summer and his parents and grandparents went far back with the Scamanders. She was a safe, scandal-free choice.

Andromeda spent the evening at home with Teddy eating breakfast for dinner (eggs, toast, beans, with coffee for her and orange juice for him) because those things were cheap yet reasonably filling.

"Nana, look, I maked green!" He was sitting at the kitchen table, painting, while she took everything out of the cabinets and cupboards to itemize and reorganize their stock of food and cleaning supplies. She had already taken to magically doubling some of what they had, but it never tasted quite as good, and to double it more than once broke most foods down into something veritably inedible. She did not want to ask Kingsley or her sister for money, but if she couldn't find a job soon, there'd be no other choice.

"That's lovely, Teddy! What two colors made green?"

"Yellow and blue!" he said proudly, holding up his paintbrush, which hadn't been rinsed in awhile and looked more brown on the bristles than anything else.

"Tell me about your painting," said Andromeda, sitting across from him. She'd learned when Nymphadora was little never to ask "What is it?" Her artistically-challenged child would inevitably crumble and ask, "Can't you tell, Mummy?"

"It's a house and a tree and a dog and a boy and the boy's brother." Teddy pointed at two small figures. The larger one had spiky pink hair and a green shirt, same as Teddy tonight. The smaller one was blond with blue blobs for eyes. Teddy glanced uneasily at his Nana. "It's just a pertend brother, not a real one."

 _"Pretend,"_ she corrected, smiling somewhat sadly, but trying not to overreact. "it's a lovely picture, Teddy."

She stood, kissed the top of his head over that spiky pink hair, and returned to the counter, where she'd set out the canned goods. He returned to his masterpiece.

"Nana?" he asked several minutes later.

"Yes, Teddy?"

"I don't memember my mummy."

Andromeda froze, nearly dropping the can of creamed corn. She set it down instead and turned to face him.

"Not at all?" It was a silly question, considering he'd been too young to hold his head up independently when she was killed, but it was the first response that came to Andromeda's mind.

"No. Are you mad?"

"Of course not!" She scooped him up and held him like a baby, the way he always wanted to be held, even though she told him often he was too old for this. "You were only a baby when she died. "I wish you could have known her, Teddy. She loved you so much. You were everything to her. She wanted nothing but happiness for you."

"Then why she go to war?" He stuck those two favorite fingers in his mouth, muffling his next words. "At Ministry daycare, I heared one of the girls say her mummy didn't fight in the war because she loved her too much and had-a stay home. She said only kids whose mummies didn't love them enough fighted in the war, then she looked right at me and stuck her tongue out, like this." He removed his fingers just long enough to demonstrate, then popped them back in.

"Which girl?"

"Phillipa Parkinson."

Andromeda glowered. Phillipa Parkinson's mother hadn't fought in the war because she was a bloody coward. And if she _had_ fought, she would have done so on the side of Lord Voldemort, just like her loser husband, an outer-circle Death Eater who was still rotting away in Azkaban. It had been Mrs. Parkinson's eldest daughter, Pansy, who'd wanted to turn Harry Potter over to the monster before Slytherins were evacuated. Andromeda could not believe her nephew had ever dated that pug-nosed prat. Pansy's little sister was a brat and their mother was a thousand times worse.

"Don't listen to Phillipa Parkinson, my little love. Your mummy was good and brave and wanted to help Harry win so you could have a happy life."

"I'm the only kid at Ministry daycare with no mummy," said Teddy, a hint of accusation in his voice, as if it were somehow Andromeda's fault he had no mother and everyone else did.

"Are you sure?" A lot of people had died in that battle. She couldn't imagine he was the only orphan. Hadn't Draco dedicated himself to helping war orphans? Perhaps none of them had reason to attend Ministry daycare, though, as their adoptive families may not work there... or maybe they just considered their adoptive mothers their "mummies," and therefore weren't mummy-free like Teddy.

"I want you be my mummy," whined Teddy around the fingers in his mouth. "I want a mummy. I want a brother. I want a dad. I want a dog and a kitty and a..."

"Let's get a cat," she blurted, cutting him off. She immediately regretted this. She hated cats. She didn't mind dogs, though they were too much work and too expensive - she needed a bloody job! - while cats were reasonably self-sufficient. Self-sufficient, but bloody unpleasant. Judgmental. Finicky with their affections.

And they left clumps of fur, half-digested mice, and cat-sick everywhere, a clean-freak's nightmare.

Damn it.

Teddy's eyes widened with surprise. He let the fingers fall from his mouth before wrapping his arm around her. She felt the wetness of his saliva on his hand at the back of her neck and fought the urge to shudder. She was not a huge fan of other people's bodily fluids.

"Kitty?" His happy, hopeful expression was too much. "I can get a kitty?"

"Yes," she said with conviction, despite wanting to swallow back the words. Was it immoral to Obliviate a five-year-old? Was it illegal? She had a feeling Kingsley would spin into a lecture if she even asked, despite not being serious about considering doing it. (Well, _mostly_ not serious.)

"A kitty? A kitty! Oh, Nana!" He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and kissed her cheek. He had dried paint on his face and more on his fingers. Since he was already in her arms, she grabbed her wand, sent his paint things back into their box, and carried him upstairs for a bath while he sang to a made-up tune: "A kitty-cat, a kitty-cat, I can get a kitty-cat! This is this and that is that and I can get a kitty-cat!"

"But _you_ have to care for it. You have to feed it and clean it's box and... and brush it... and play with it... and whatever else people do with mangy felines."

"I'll name her Meow-meow and make her a collar and teach her to fetch a ball like Duchess!"

"You'll name her Meow-meow?" She set him down, plugged the tub, and started the water.

"So I can say 'What's your name?' and she can say, 'Meow-meow!'"

"Clever."

He lifted his arms so she could take off his green tee-shirt, which she sent flying to the clothes hamper in the corner. She motioned for him to do his own shorts and underwear, as he knew how (and didn't get stuck in them like he sometimes did with his shirts). He also managed his own socks, though he fell over when pulling off the left one. She caught him before he hit the floor. He was as clumsy as his mother had always been. She helped him climb into the tub, which had enough water to sit in, but left the tap on as it wasn't yet full enough.

"I'l have my kitty then I'll get a dog and you can marry Kingsley and then I'll have a mummy and a dad and a cat and-"

"Teddy!" Andromeda tried not to sound overly exasperated. "We're getting a cat, but I'm not your mum, I'm not marrying Kingsley, and if you're still hoping for a dog, don't. Dogs are a lot of work... and husbands are a lot of work. And I... I need a lot of work. Let's just be happy about the cat, alright? We'll go tomorrow to the shelter to find the perfect one."

"I want a fluffy kitty," he said, sounding only a little disappointed at her assurance he'd not also get a mother and father out of this cat concession, probably because 'brother' was still the ultimate goal. "A fluffy, floofy, poofy, puffy kitty. Like Crookshanks." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "But not so ugly and angry as Crookshanks."

Andromeda smiled and began soaping up the flannel for him to wash himself; he was getting more independent all the time, despite his regressions since her return from the facility.

"I promise, we won't pick an angry cat. But I won't rule out an ugly one. Ugly kitties need families too."

"Alright," he consented, taking the cloth from her and starting on his tummy. "Ugly's okay if it's fluffy."

Less than two days later, when Healer Smelthwick returned via Floo for the Sunday session, she was surprised to find Andromeda issuing a string of curse words at a small black ball of fur with a bright white stripe down its back while Kingsley laughed himself stupid.

"Get your fucking claws out of my fucking couch you fluffy fucking monster!" She tugged on its little body, but the obstinate furball only yowled and dug its claws more deeply into the cloth leg of the couch. This is precisely why she'd wanted the boy to choose an older cat, a calm one, one that had already learned better than to behave this way. One that didn't look like a skunk that had suffered an electric shock that left it with Einstein's hairstyle. One that would be docile and calming and sweet. But no. The shelter had one kitten - _one!_ \- and though it was attacking its own tail when Teddy first spotted it, the boy insisted upon taking it home.

"It has no mummy, too!" he'd argued when Andromeda tried to convince him to pick a fat sleeping calico curled up in the corner of a cage. "It's a baby with no mummy like me! It needs a home!"

How could she say no?

How could she argue with that?

How could she _not_ allow him to adopt the presumably possessed wild-eyed demon kitten from hell, the one that might actually be her older sister reincarnated?

 _Fucking cat._

The kitten growled as Andromeda attempted again to extract it from her couch, digging those claws in even harder.

"I see all's well here," said Adelaide, settling comfortably into her usual chair. She gestured for Kingsley to take a seat on the couch.

"I hate this bloody cat!" Andromeda gave up and plopped beside the Minister. The kitten immediately went back to sharpening her claws in the material, drawing them down, releasing, and reaching back up to do it again, never taking her eyes off Andromeda. Never blinking. Andromeda glared at it scornfully while massaging her forearms... which were covered in thin red scratches.

Adelaide cocked a curious eyebrow and motioned toward her patient's injuries. "Self-inflicted?"

"That feral menace _hates_ me. She hisses, bites, scratches, and _spits._ Have you ever seen a kitten _spit?_ And Teddy bloody _loves_ her! She slept with us last night because he insisted she'd be lonely otherwise. I woke up to find her staring at me in the dark, sharpening her claws, plotting my death. She opened her mouth and I swear instead of meowing she whispered, ' _Soon.'_ "

This made Kingsley laugh harder.

"Fuck off, you," said Andromeda irritably as the kitten hopped up into her lap, stretched, and bounded from her to Kingsley, on whom she curled up contentedly.

This made Adelaide chuckle too.

"You can fuck right off with Kingsley and the bloody cat," Andromeda snapped at the woman, jerking her head toward Kingsley, who was now petting the purring kitten. "All three of you."

"Her name is Meow-meow." Kingsley scritched behind her ears, earning him a rub of her head against his hand. "Isn't it?" he cooed at the kitten. "Isn't your name Meow-meow?"

"Mroww," the kitten replied, right on cue.

"Stupid Meow-meow."

Adelaide snickered again, but quickly composed herself, as she was here in professional capacity after all.

"Before we begin, Andromeda, I'd like to share with you something I probably shouldn't, but the person it concerns has given permission."

"What's that?" Andromeda tore her eyes away from the black and white kitten in Kingsley's lap, directing her attention to Healer Smelthwick instead.

"It may interest you to know that Dorcas Kensington is being released tomorrow."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Upcoming, some happy scenes and some drama and maybe even some sadness. Dorcas meets Draco, Hermione, Harry Potter and the gang pretty soon, which I'm looking forward to posting. Kingsley and Andromeda continue to work on their relationship. Some sobriety-related struggles arise when coping with stress gets to be too much... and who knows, maybe Meow-meow really is evil Bellatrix reborn in cat-form? (No, just kidding, she's actually just a wild kitten like my cat was at that age. It comes from being weaned too soon and not having other kittens to interact with or a mother cat to teach them kitty manners, according to my vet, who then recommended kitty Prozac for my crazy cat.)

Thanks so much for reading! And thanks times a thousand to **PopularCats, emrldapplejuice, KnowInsight, sassanech, somethingnew2016,** and **FrancineHibiscus** for reviewing Chapter Fourteen!

 **-AL**


	16. Part Two: Week 3

**A/N:**

 **FFnet hasn't been sending out alerts consistently lately, so if you haven't read 15, do so first! It's the one that starts with a cigarette and ends with a lengthier-than-usual A/N about upcoming... stuff. Thanks!**

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

 **END OF WEEK THREE**

Kingsley ran his thumb along Andromeda's jaw, his four fingers resting lightly against her neck, as she sighed. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted, but both knew a kiss would be dangerous. A kiss could lead to more.

"Why are we refusing ourselves what we both want?" she whispered, her fingertips ghosting up the front of his collared shirt. He'd been working alongside the Muggle Prime Minister again today, Friday, and hadn't gone home to change before coming to see her.

"Because your Healer thinks we should be taking things slow," he replied, leaning down until his lips were nearly on hers. He could almost taste her cherry lip balm, and though it reminded him of their unfortunate 'encounter' at the facility, he felt a tug in his groin at the memory of how wet and desperate she'd been for him that afternoon, after such a long period apart. He would never reduce her to a mere sex object - save for during that one brief fit of anger - but she truly was the best he'd ever bedded. Something about them meshed well, physically, in a way he'd never before experienced with other witches.

"Your Healer thinks we're toxic for each other," he murmured.

"My Healer doesn't understand how impossible abstinence is for a woman in the sexual prime of her life."

He smirked and moved even closer, nuzzling the side of her nose with his. "Are you in the sexual prime of your life?"

"Don't you read? Everyone knows that men peak at twenty-five, while women do at fifty. I'm fifty. It's the one perk of turning fifty. And yet, since I turned fifty, we've been together only once, for less than two minutes, leaving with me several months' worth of bottled up tension and..."

"You're killing me." He stroked her cheek and nuzzled against her again, his lips just barely touching the corner of her mouth. Suddenly, though the summer evening was on the cooler side, he was much too warm in his Muggle attire. "I've wanted you since your release, but your Healer insists..."

"Over these last three weeks I've become far too familiar with my detachable shower head," she interjected, her voice low. She pressed her body closer to his, bumping against his groin with her lower abdomen; when she felt a poke she knew their close proximity was indeed having the desired effect. "Teddy is asleep in my bed but you could shag me here on the couch. We'll use a silencing charm so as not to wake him... and we won't tell Adelaide. What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

"I had to Floo home for my lunch hour yesterday." The hand not cupping her cheek moved around to cup her arse as her hands slipped up to his pecs. "I could not shake the pervasive thought of you, sitting on my desk, your skirt bunched around your waist, your breasts exposed, leaning back while I..." He ended his sentence by thrusting lightly against her rather than with words. "I've spent too much time in the shower as of late too, but I keep the water temperature set to ice cold."

"That was very wrong of us, Minister. That quick fuck on your desk." Her fingers nimbly unbuttoned each pearly white button down the front of his boring white dress shirt. "We could have gotten caught. Your secretary was right outside the door at her desk. Anyone could have popped in by Floo. And I don't think I was quiet. You should have told me no."

"How could I resist you? You wore the same pink blouse and skirt you were wearing the first time you visited my office, when you wanted me to let your sister out of prison." He sucked her lower lip between his. His shirt was nearly unbuttoned to the bottom, and his trousers were confining his cock in a most uncomfortable way. When he released her lower lip, it was slightly puffy, and he was certain he'd sucked off all the cherry flavor. Perhaps he could request she put more on. He liked it.

"It _does_ turn you on when I manipulate you, doesn't it?"

"You're brilliant. The subtleties, the visual reminders, the way you turn a phrase... You could be a politician."

"I'm far too self-serving."

"That's never stopped a politician before."

She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind him. She loved the feel of his bare chest, virile, strong, masculine. He was more muscular than Ted had been, though not overly defined. His chest hair was dark and soft and trailed down to his pants, a line she'd followed with her lips many times. His broad shoulders made her feel small and safe, and there was a part of her that fluttered and melted every time she wrapped her arms around his back, remembering the way he'd fucked her against the wall in that storeroom the very first time. He was a powerful man in so many ways, and each one impressed and aroused her.

In addition to being physically powerful, his magical abilities greatly surpassed those of most wizards, putting him in a class bested by precious few. He had the capability of mastering the darkest dark magic, but he also had the fortitude and innate goodness not to utilize such talents. Since they'd started seeing each other he'd taught her to form a corporeal Patronus and use it to send messages, which he did with far greater ease than anyone she'd ever seen before, save, perhaps, for Dumbledore. He was foreboding when necessary but calm and stoic most of the time, which required far more control than most people realized. And he was, in terms of position and title, currently the most powerful person in their world: Minister for Magic. He exuded power the way he exuded class, but he did not wield either over those easily deemed lesser.

"We should not do this," he mumbled, his mouth against her neck. His tongue flicked out to taste her skin as his other hand joined the first on her arse, pulling her close, leaving no space between them.

"We should not have done this in the storeroom, we should not have done this on your desk, we should not have done this in the facility... but here, now, what does it matter? No one will know, there's no reason not to." She glided her hand down from the center of his chest to his crotch, robbing him over the fabric of his trouser. "My fingers are a poor substitution for what you have to offer."

"Tell me, Andromeda." He jerked her forward with his hands still palming her arse, trapping her hand between their bodies. "Tell me every dirty thing you want done to you. Tell me, should I touch you? Taste you? Bend you over and table and take you from behind? Transfigure the couch into a bed and lay you gently down? Where shall I kiss you? How shall I pleasure you? What do you want from me tonight?"

"I want it all. I want it slow and tender and fast and rough... I want everything we've both been missing all these months. I want... No, I need... ohhh..." Her sentence died in a breathy moan as he grabbed her breast, squeezing hard, just before his mouth crashed down upon hers.

She loved his lips. They were full and soft and insistent, and he always tasted of peppermint in the winter and coconut in the summer, as he fancied lip balm as much as she did. His tongue knew all the contours of her entire body, and she loved the way he explored her mouth, using the muscle just enough to make her heart beat harder and her thighs twitch as her body ached to feel it in other, equally familiar places. With her fingernails raking down his back and his hands still on her breast and arse, they stumbled back, slamming quite accidentally into the wall. He divested her of her blouse and bra in seconds before lifting her to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, and she clung to his shoulders with one arm while stroking the back of his head with her free hand, guiding him, encouraging him.

He loved her body as much as she did his. He loved her breasts, which were still on the smaller side despite the last two years' weight gain. He loved each dark pink areola with a sharp bud in the center; he flicked his tongue over one now, eliciting another moan, as her short nails dug painfully into the back of his neck. He loved the chocolate frog-sized purplish port-wine stain birthmark on her upper left thigh, over which he had his hand, even though she hated the imperfection. He loved the tiger-stripe stretch marks on her sides, leftover from pregnancy despite her return to pre-pregnancy weight some twenty-eight years ago. He loved her slender neck, the dip before her shoulder, her once wild, now-tamed hair, her alabaster skin, the smooth, soft skin of her inner thighs, her impossibly dark eyes, the taste of her lips and her tongue and her arousal... He'd never felt this enamored with any woman before her, and with her, he'd felt this way right away, long before she did. Long before she knew of his interest. Long before they truly knew each other.

"I'm sorry," he said upon tearing his mouth from her breast. He lowered her body just enough so that they were face-to-face, eye-to-eye. He kissed her gently on the lips, the cheekbone, the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry for being unfaithful to you. I'm sorry for letting you suffer so long. I'm sorry for not saving you..."

"Stop apologizing," she demanded. She pressed her lips hard against his, kissing him without tongue, without tenderness, but with base, primal need. "An apology is not what I need right now."

He apparated them to the couch, landing on top of her, which made her laugh.

"It was a three-yard walk!"

"Too far." He parted her thighs with his knee before capturing her mouth again.

Her hand traveled back down the length of his body until she had her palm over his erection, which was now straining his trousers to the point that the thought the button fly might burst. She stroked him through the fabric as his fingers made quick work of the zipper of her jeans. She let out an involuntary whimper as he began to rub her as she was doing to him. Though the denim of her jeans and the silk of her knickers separated his hand from her body, she could feel the heat coming off of him, feeling it warming her down there, and she thrust up against his hand, needing more.

She was surprised they'd ended up here, in this state. Sunday's session had been a difficult one, after which he'd kissed her cheek and said he needed a few days to himself, and departed before Harry Potter had even returned Teddy. She missed him on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday. She saw no point in wasting money making real meals without him around to help eat them, especially since the child had the appetite of a bird lately, so she and Teddy lived off sandwiches and porridge and eggs, and her insomnia got worse and worse. She would get into bed beside her grandson and try to sleep, but sleep would evade her, and eventually she'd give up and get up.

She'd reorganized the kitchen twice more since the previous week. She'd also emptied out every box and bin of Teddy's toys, washed anything that could be washed by hand, set aside what he was getting too old for, and returned the rest neatly to their specific spaces.

She did the same to the linens and towels and dressing gowns, washing what wasn't even dirty, and drying and refolding and putting away. The towels and extra bedding were now arranged their shelves by color, starting with red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, pink, brown, black, gray, and finally, white. Like a rainbow atop a cloud, one strip of each (equalling twelve, as she had a light blue and a dark blue).

Wednesday night was particularly difficult. She eventually ran out of things to organize, so she sat at the kitchen table and scratched curiously at the markings on her inner forearm. Track marks, Healer Smelthwick had called them. Caused by the injections. According to Dorcas during one of their last breakfasts together, these scars would go away eventually, thanks to a combination of time and Essence of Dittany. She was sick of waiting on time, and she was all out of Dittany. She knew in her logical mind that pinching and scratching at them would, if anything, make them more pronounced rather than less, but once she started she couldn't stop. Like her compulsion to clean, the need to keep working at them nagged at her until she did it, even when she tried to distract herself with other tasks.

Before she knew it, the sun was rising, it was morning, and she'd spent no less than six straight hours digging at her skin.

Her bleeding skin.

She knew Teddy would be up soon, so she took a quick shower to wash away the dried blood, then, upon drying off, applied the last of her Essence of Murtlap (Dittany's less-effective cousin) and bandaged it, hoping having it covered would keep her from continuing. She then clipped her fingernails - if they'd been shorter, she couldn't have done quite so much damage - and went downstairs to start the water for coffee. She needed caffeine to make it through another long day of jobless single parenthood.

She skipped breakfast and still wasn't hungry for lunch, which probably wasn't good, as she hadn't eaten more than four bites of her toast with beans the night before. Around one, while Teddy was running in circles around the couch (she'd bet him an ice cream cone he couldn't manage fifty laps before falling down, mostly because she needed him to be occupied and work off excess energy while she job-searched in the Prophet) Narcissa stepped out of the Floo, Hope on her hip.

"Here, darling. Play with your favorite cousin." Narcissa set the cherub-cheeked girl down on the floor. Teddy stopped running, took two steps, and fell down. Dizzy.

"Was that fifty, Nana?" he called. She glanced up from her seat, the one Adelaide usually took during therapy sessions. She hadn't been counting.

"So close, love," she said, peering at him over her eyeglasses. "Forty-eight. Take a break and when Hope goes home, you can try again."

"Bloody hell!" cursed Teddy, apparently forgetting the anti-'bad words' rules Severus had tried to instill in him when he was living next door.

"Buddy hell!" copied Hope. Narcissa shook her head sternly at the girl, then shot her sister a withering glance.

"It's bloody hell," corrected Teddy. "It means like damn or fuck."

"Andromeda!" exclaimed Narcissa, jerking her head in the child's direction. "You're not going to punish him?"

"For only managing to run 'round the couch forty-eight times when the goal was fifty? Of course not. I'm not a monster." Andromeda diverted her eyes back to the newspaper, found a possible position, dipped her quill, and circled it.

"You're maddening." Narcissa dropped gracefully to the couch, angled toward her sister. "Teddy, don't use those words. They're inappropriate words. And Hope, we don't copy inappropriate words. Understand?"

"Sorry, Mummy."

Teddy apologized too, but to Narcissa, not his grandmother. Then he pulled Hope over to see his new fill-in-the-image watercolor paint set. After the outline of an animal was all colored it, a parent could tap it with a wand and say the magic words, and it would come to life on the page. The spell only lasted about five minutes, but it was sufficiently entertaining.

"I'll do the lion," said Teddy. He handed a page to Hope. "You can have the kitty."

"Speaking of kitties, where's yours?" asked Narcissa.

"Probably hiding under the bed upstairs waiting for me to walk in, unsuspecting, so it can launch a vicious attack."

"Is that why you have the bandage?" Narcissa gestured toward her sister's arm. Andromeda flinched, having forgotten it was visible.

"Yes. She bit me." Andromeda returned her attention to the newspaper, hoping there would be no follow-up question.

"Oh," said Narcissa. She tapped her long, manicured red nails on the arm of the couch. She was dressed to the nines, as usual, in a fitted, floor-length white and silver witch's gown that was more expensive than any of the formalwear in Andromeda's wardrobe. Apparently being married to Snape over the last few years hadn't dulled her exquisite tastes and desire for fine threads. Her hair was done up in an elaborate braid the house-elf must have helped with, and she wore lipstick to match her nails. She had kicked off her heels before sitting on the couch, and wore real diamonds in her ears and around her wrist and on both her third fingers, as she kept Lucius' engagement ring on her right hand while the wedding band from Severus' was on her left.

Andromeda, on the other hand, wore an oversized Holyhead Harpies t-shirt that had belonged to Ted with light blue jeans torn in one knee with gray cotton socks and trainers. Her hair was washed but not brushed, and the only 'makeup' she currently cared to apply was that cherry lip balm. Her wedding ring was upstairs in her bedside table drawer, and the single piece of other jewelry she regularly wore was a small silver heart-shaped locket, a gift from Nymphadora, who'd placed a photograph of them inside.

The children looked just as different. Hope was in a miniature version of her mother's ensemble, a silver jumper over a white blouse with a Peter Pan collar and stockings, even though it was still technically summer, while Teddy wore tan shorts and a pale green t-shirt with a cartoon mermaid on the front. Andromeda didn't know the name of the red-haired princess and she was reasonably certain the shirt was meant for Muggle girls, but Teddy had wanted it so badly during their last shopping excursion, she'd irresponsibly given in and spent her last bit of Muggle money on it, leaving her down to one galleon, two sickles, three knuts, and no pounds. Not enough.

"What are you looking for in there?" asked Narcissa, pointing toward the paper.

"A job."

"Why?"

"Why?" Andromeda laughed scornfully. "Why would anyone look for a job? To make money. You're familiar with money, Cissy, yes? It's that glittery stuff your Gringotts vault is full of, that nonsense you never have to worry about. I'd take a few coins out to show you, to jog your memory, but I am most unfortunately low on funds at the moment, thus such a demonstration would not be possible."

"Don't snap at me. I'm not the reason your last job fired you."

"No, technically _stealing_ is the reason my last job fired me. Which is partly what's making it so difficult to find a new position. I worked there off and on for over twenty years and can't get a single reference out of it."

"I'm sorry," said Narcissa emphatically. "You know, if you need money, Severus and I could give-"

"I don't want money from my sister and her husband."

"Or Draco could lend-"

"I want a loan from my nephew even less." Andromeda pushed her glasses up her nose with her index finger and regarded her sister with a sigh. "I appreciate that you'd like to help, Cissy, but you've done enough for me. You raised Teddy for three months and I appreciate it, but now I need to return to real life, and that includes supporting myself and my child. Excuse me, _grandchild."_

Teddy glanced up at the mention.

"What if Severus could give you a job, then?"

"As what? A shop girl? I'm a little old."

"A shop girl could be a shop woman. There's no age limit on the position. You could work in the smaller location, with Hermione. You..."

"If I cannot find something on my own, I'll consider begging him to let me work as the assistant to your son's girlfriend. But I'd like to give it another week before I accept defeat."

"Fiancee, remember?" asked Narcissa. "They're having that engagement celebration dinner next Friday. A week from tomorrow night. You'll be there, won't you? I said you would be there. I want you to be there. I want you and Kingsley to-"

"I'll be there. I can't make any promises for Kingsley; I'm not his keeper."

"But we'd really like for him to be there," whined Narcissa. "He's the Minister for Magic. He's important. And we want him at the wedding. It will look good for Draco, for his recovering reputation, if the Minister..."

"Will it, though? If the Minister attends a dinner on the arm of a..." She dropped her voice after a cursory glance at the children, who were comparing their half-finished paintings. "The arm of a prostitute who happens to be both the aunt of the boy and the sister of a known murderer, do you think it will _help_ his reputation? If anything, it may hurt that of Kingsley. Unless he attends without me."

"Nonsense. And don't call yourself a... you know. You're not."

"I was."

"You weren't! Not really. You're not like those... those..." Now Narcissa's was the one whose voice was barely above a whisper. "Those slags at the brothels and the betting parlor, lurking around at the end of Knockturn Alley... They're prostitutes. You're not like them. You're not loose or dirty. You were... desperate. And not in your right mind. It isn't the same."

"I realize you mean well," said Andromeda, stone-faced. "But I wish you wouldn't say such things. I know what I've been and what I've done, and I also know that there are plenty of prostitutes who are neither 'loose' nor 'dirty,' and when you perpetuate-"

"I don't want people to think my sister's a whore," snapped Narcissa, cutting her off and forgetting to keep her voice down.

"What's a whore, Mummy?" asked Hope, glancing up from her painting.

"Nana," said Teddy, without taking his eyes off the mane he was coloring orange.

"What, love?" asked Andromeda.

"No, I was answerin' Hope. She asked, 'What's a whore?' so I said, 'Nana.'"

"Why would you answer... why would that be your answer?" Andromeda's chest tightened, as did her fists. She dug her short nails into the palms of her hands and tried to breathe evenly. Was it because of what Narcissa had just said? That word - while she wanted to single-handedly erase the stigma surrounding it if for no other reason than to rid young Dorcas of an undeserved bad reputation - to hear it from his lips induced a visceral reaction, as it sounded particularly vulgar when said with such innocence.

"It's what the man at the Quidditch Supply Shop called you, when me and Harry went there Sunday. The man seed me and said, 'Pink hair on a little boy? You're either a bummer or that Metamorph's kid.'"

Her fists clenched even more tightly. It was a good thing she'd cut her nails that morning, otherwise she'd be ripping her palms to shreds. "Where was Harry?"

"Buying me a broom servicing kit, talking to Lee Jordan."

She nodded. Lee Jordan worked at the supply shop. She'd seen him there a couple of times. He was a nice kid. Well, young man. Hardly a kid anymore, she supposed, being he must be getting close to thirty.

"What did you say?" asked Narcissa.

"I said my mummy was a Metamorph. Then the lady with him said, 'That means his father was the werewolf,' and then the man said, 'And his grandmother is the whore' and she laughed and tapped him like this..." He patted Hope on the chest. "And said, 'Oh, you're awful.' And he said, 'It's true, ain't it?' and then he bended down next to me and said, 'Your grandmother, she's the Minister's whore, ain't she, lad?' and I said, 'I know the Minister! He sleeps at my house sometimes,' and he said..."

"Oh, Teddy, you told this man the Minister sleeps at our house sometimes?" Andromeda removed her glasses, placed them on her head, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah. And he said, 'I knew it. Prophet don't lie!' then Harry comed over and picked me up on his shoulders and we went for lunch."

"Did you tell Harry about the man?"

"I telled him I didn't like the man because he smelled like sauerkraut and you know I don't like sauerkraut."

"We're going into the kitchen to make tea," said Andromeda. She stood, threw the newspaper down on her chair, and shot a look at her sister. "You children stay in here. Don't go near the fireplace and don't get paint on the floor."

"Okay," said Teddy and Hope together. They went back to their art.

When the sisters were seated at the table and the kettle was on, Andromeda spoke.

"I'm so fucking sick of those words, Cissy, I can't even tell you. 'Slag,' 'whore,' 'slut,' 'prostitute.' All of them. There aren't words that mean the same for men, you realize? Where are all the nasty, vile derogatory terms for men who've slept around, or for men who sell themselves? Kingsley's been to bed with more women than I've had men, you know, but according to the Daily Prophet, there's a genuine fear in our community that I've _corrupted_ him, that his judgment is tainted because he's with a _sullied_ woman, that he could do better than a _slattern_ who lost her virginity while still at Hogwarts and - Merlin forbid! - fucked a few wizards after her husband was murdered. It's expected that Kingsley - an unmarried man - would be having sex. He's the Minister for Magic, for Circe's sake! They'd think there was something wrong with him if he weren't enjoying the occasional company of a woman! Or of another man, if he swung that way. But they heard about me with Thorfinn Rowle and that nurse, and kept digging until they found Theo Nott and a couple of others, and now they've put it out there that I've been on my back for money since I was fourteen, which isn't true, but _fuck,_ Cissy, if it _were_ true, what would it matter? I wouldn't be damaged goods, I wouldn't be worth less than anyone else, I wouldn't be unworthy of education or employment or affection, I wouldn't... I wouldn't... I might-"

"Is this still about you, or is this about that young girl Bella brought to Hogwarts?" Narcissa interrupted.

"It's... I don't know!" Andromeda threw up her hands. She couldn't pretend the girl's life story, and Bella's attempted intervention, and the fact that she'd be freed from the facility in a couple of days with nowhere to go, hadn't been weighing heavily on her mind all week. "I don't know if it's about me or about her, perhaps it's about both of us. All of us. All women who've been... who've been torn apart for... for what isn't... for what... Why is 'prostitute' a bad word? What makes me a slag? And so what if I am, what's wrong with that?"

"You could..." Narcissa shifted in her chair, clearly uncomfortable. "You could get a disease."

"I've had one, thanks."

"You... you have?" Narcissa's cobalt blue eyes were opened wide, and she looked upon Andromeda as if seeing her for the first time. "Like... like Mother?"

"Yes, except presumably Mother got it from Father because he cheated on her, whereas I got it from someone I'd sucked off at Hogwarts. I can't say who because I'm not entirely sure."

"But... but that's... Meda!" Narcissa's head shook in disbelief. She looked both shocked and sickened. "How could you have...?"

"I'm not you, Narcissa. You've been with how many men in your life? Just two? Married to both, one child with both, and, hell, were you the first for both?"

"I was the first for Lucius," she answered indignantly. "I was Severus' second. And Lucius was with only one other woman beside me, a mistake. And Severus... Severus would never be unfaithful, of that I am certain. So I've been with two people and they've each been with two people."

"How perfectly lovely for you. My experience has not been the same. I've been with about a dozen and can't even begin to count how many others they've had, collectively."

"I don't mean to be judgmental, Meda, but..."

"But you're going to say something judgmental anyway. Go on, I can take it."

"But that's not good. It's not safe. It's not smart. And I... I think... now that you're well again, you should..." Narcissa heaved a deep sigh. "You should take care not to continue on that destructive path. Marry Kingsley. He asked you before, chances are he'll feel that way again. He may feel that way already. You won't need money with him. He's not only the Minister for Magic, he comes from money. The Shacklebolts were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and also members of the Dozen Elite." The former were a group of twenty-eight families still considered to have pure bloodlines as of the early 1930s, which most prided themselves on, while the latter was an exclusive club formed in the mid-1950s by Sirius and Regulus' parents together with the Shafiqs, comprised of only the wealthiest, most prominent old wizarding families, the ones with job titles like "philanthropist" and "influencer," whose children were in the Slug Club despite having no particular talents or abilities. "Let him marry you and take care of you and you won't want for anything."

"So I can be _his_ whore instead of some stranger's? Fuck off with that archaic nonsense, Narcissa. I'm not cut out for your life as a vapid unfulfilled trophy wife."

"You are impossible and I cannot talk to you when you're like this." Narcissa stood and glared down at her sister. "Get some sleep tonight, you look like death warmed over, and perhaps by this time tomorrow you'll be in a more agreeable mood. I'll drop by then." She stormed out of the kitchen. "Hope! Put your shoes on, we're going home!"

That night, Thursday night, Andromeda had just put Teddy to bed and was pacing around in her pajamas, ready for another sleepless night, when there was a rush of green fire in her fireplace indicating someone was about to enter. Fully expecting it to be her sister, she put on her most sour expression and prepared to tell her to sod off (at least until tomorrow). But to her pleasant surprise, Kingsley stepped out of the flames.

"Narcissa said she could tell you haven't been sleeping. She had Severus send me a message by Patronus."

"What's it matter?" she asked, trying to look and sound casual when all she wanted to do was throw her arms around his neck and ask to be held. "Sleep is overrated."

"She also said you have a bandage along the crux of your inner forearm. What happened?"

"The cat bit me."

"That's a lie."

"Fine." She pushed up the three-quarter sleeve of her pajama top and ripped off the bandage to show him the damage. "I was scratching at it. It's hideous."

"No part of you is hideous." He tapped the bandage with the tip of his wand, Vanishing it, then used Lumos to light it, as the room was dark save for the fire. He looked closely, pressing gently, before leaning down to press a kiss over the angriest of her red marks. Track marks were caused when a person injected into the same area over and over and over again, bruising it, potentially damaging the vein, and leaving a scar. "I'm sorry you and she fought."

"She had Severus tell you by Patronus that we fought?"

"No. I stopped there before coming here."

"Oh." She didn't fight it when he drew her into his arms, enveloping her in a protective hug. She buried her face against the front of his purple and blue robes, inhaling deeply. Purple was her favorite color on him, and because he knew it, he wore it often.

"You worked with Healer Smelthwick on relaxation techniques to help induce sleep, did you not? Clearing your mind with Occlumency, deep breathing, a warm bath..."

"Nothing's been working. I think I'm afraid to fall asleep. When I sleep, I..." She closed her eyes and turned her head, trying to hear his heartbeat through the fabric of his clothing.

"You...?"

"I have nightmares. And when I wake, even though I know they weren't real, they... they linger."

"In what way?"

"I remain frightened..." She hated this, hated admitting this to him, hated admitting to this vulnerability. She felt it was childish to be afraid long after a nightmare had subsided, and yet, since leaving the facility, they'd plagued her with an intensity she'd never known before, and even upon getting out of bed and assuring herself it was only a dream the sounds and images remained, and she felt scared.

"I'll stay with you." He kissed the top of her head. "I'll keep you safe."

"You can't. Teddy's asleep in my bed. We can't... we can't sleep together, I..." She thought about earlier, about the boy telling a strange man the Minister slept at their house. For the first year of their relationship she hadn't let Kingsley into her bedroom, into her bed, in great part because of Teddy. She felt it was improper. But as she'd fallen hard for the man and as it had become more difficult for them to say goodbye each night, she'd relaxed in this, telling herself Teddy knew other couples who shared a bed - Narcissa and Severus, Draco and Hermione, Harry and Ginny - and the knowledge hadn't exactly scarred him for life. It meant nothing to him, sharing a bed. It was just something people who loved each other sometimes did, and so she started letting Kingsley spend the night. Stopped worrying about Teddy finding them under the covers (in their pajamas) intertwined in the morning.

But sleeping together with Teddy seemed another thing entirely. The man was not his father, or even his stepfather, or step-grandfather. It wouldn't be right.

It might make Teddy think they were a family.

And that would only make it hurt more when Kingsley inevitably left her - left _them_ \- and they had to move on without him, an even more broken family than they already were.

"What do you do when you awaken from these nightmares?" he asked, still holding her.

"I check on Teddy. I make certain he's breathing. Then I come downstairs and make tea, and I pace, and I..." She brought her hand up to the crux of her forearm, scratching absentmindedly at the scabs there. "I reorganize my cupboards."

"I'll sleep on your couch, then. And if you wake in the middle of the night, instead of pacing or cleaning, you'll come to me."

"It's an uncomfortable couch."

"So I'll transfigure it to be more comfortable." He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. "You used to drink whisky when you couldn't sleep."

"Or wine. Until I started relying on... on the other." She scratched that spot with more vigor. He gently placed his hand over hers and brought it down between them, away from the marks. "Sometimes sex helps me fall asleep," she said hopefully, half-smiling up at him. "We could try that."

He laughed. "You are an incorrigible woman and I love you. Are my pajamas upstairs?"

"And your dressing gown." She flicked her wand, quietly calling, 'Accio, Kingsley's carpetbag.' It flew down the stairs and into the sitting room, where he caught it. He changed quickly while she transfigured the couch cushions and back to be softer. She would try to change it into a bed, but the poor piece of furniture was so old and had been magically repaired one too many times already, thus another major transformation might be the one to do it in. This would have to suffice.

They stayed up together for awhile, kissing and cuddling, which she'd missed even though she never thought it was something she needed, or even liked all that much. Eventually, she was too tired to keep her eyes open. He carried her up to her room and tucked her in with Teddy and Meow-meow, who opened one green eye to glare at her but did not hiss or swipe. He then spent the next several hours alone on the couch.

She inevitable awoke after a particularly vicious nightmare in which she saw Nymphadora at age fourteen being pawed at by a grown man who grew violent when she started to cry, no doubt thanks to a story Dorcas had told her, which morphed into another nightmare in which cackling Bella was torturing Ted while she was being forced to watch, and, finally, a nightmare in which Teddy was being set upon by werewolves insisting it was time to bite him to make him one of them like his father. After several minutes of panting in the dark and doing her 'grounding' checks (door straight in front of me, bedside table to the right, wardrobe along the opposite wall, toilet down the hall to the left...') she checked on the boy, sipped some water, then headed downstairs.

Kingsley was asleep on the couch, as he said he'd be. She'd intended to wake him, but he looked so peaceful...

So, deciding she didn't care if it destroyed the couch, she carefully transfigured it into a bed and slipped under the quilt beside him. He pulled her to him in his sleep and murmured something unintelligible.

And now, some twenty-four hours later, they were again on the couch. But this time, she was on her back, and he was on top of her, and they were naked, and she needed him.

"We shouldn't..." he groaned as his fingers pumped inside. He used his thumb to massage her clit as he fucked her this way, reveling in how slick and ready she was for him.

At the same time, her hand moved steadily up and down the length of his cock, lubricated with his pre-cum. She loved his entire body, but she adored this part of his anatomy in particular. He was the perfect size, in her opinion. Thick, but not too thick, long, but not too long, when he was excited it jutted up proudly, and when he was inside her, filling her, she could feel power coursing through from his body to hers.

"I know we shouldn't," she said, jerking faster. "But I want to."

"As do I." He groaned as his balls tightened. "I can't last." He grabbed her wrist, stopping her, and moved down the length of the couch/bed, positioning himself between her legs as he had that afternoon in the facility. She cried out when his tongue made contact with the swollen button between her folds. She twitched and thrust as he licked and sucked her there, continuing the movements with his fingers. It didn't take long before she cried out again, one hand on the back of his head, the other clutching desperately at the fringe-edged throw pillow under her head, though he didn't stop until her orgasm had subsided. He then moved back up, his hand on his cock, and after three or four quick pumps he finished across her ribcage and abdomen.

He subsequently collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him in place, also struggling to catch her breath.

"We need to clean this mess and dress in case Teddy wakes up."

"Yes," he agreed, though he was in no hurry to get off of her. "Shower?"

"Alright."

Less than a half hour later, she fell asleep in his arms for the second night in a row.

She departed in the morning before either Kingsley or Teddy were awake, though she left them a note.

She was sorry to sneak off, but she had to go see a friend.

A friend who was being discharged from the facility.

A friend who would need somewhere safe to go.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry to leave it here instead of after her reunion with Dorcas or her next therapy session, but it felt like this was the cutoff point for this chapter (especially as it had gotten pretty long). I'm looking forward to the next chapter: Hermione and Draco's engagement dinner party, with Harry and Ginny, and Neville and Luna, and Severus and Duchess... I mean, _Narcissa..._ and everyone else who's important to them.

 **-AL**

 **PS: Thanks to Sassanech, FrancineHibiscus, emrldapplejuice, and somethingnew2016 for reviewing C15!**


	17. Part Two: Week 4

**A/N:**

 **Note, this chapter is very long, part of it is from Kingsley's perspective, and part is told in flashback. Please read C16 first if you haven't already, and please, please review. Thanks!**

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

 **END OF WEEK FOUR**

She spent the bulk of the week alone.

No Kingsley, no Narcissa, no Teddy.

And she hated it.

On Saturday, the day Dorcas was discharged, Andromeda went to meet her. She felt someone should, and who else did the girl have? It seemed the only person who'd ever given a flying fuck about her was Bellatrix, and Bella was dead. So she left a note for Kingsley and Teddy, assuming she'd be home shortly after they awoke, even if the trip took a few hours. Teddy had been up later than usual the night before, and Kingsley liked a lie-in on the weekends. She even left her last can of beans and what was left of the bread on the table, hoping Kingsley would make it for Teddy. She imagined them waking up, having a little breakfast, and to still be seated at the table upon her return.

She was wrong.

Kingsley woke early to the sound of a sobbing child and a heavy weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to find Teddy draped over him, half-hysterical, because his nana was missing.

"Is Nana dead?" he cried, his words muffled by Kingsley's pajama top, which the boy had buried his face against. "Is Nana dead like Mummy?"

"What?" Kingsley sat up, nearly knocking the boy off the couch/bed. He rubbed his bleary eyes and glanced around, confused. He hadn't felt her get up and had no idea where she might have gone. Hoping that she had the foresight to leave a message, he retrieved his wand from inside the pillow case, held it out, and said, "Accio note from Andromeda!"

A torn piece of parchment flew into his hand from the direction of the kitchen.

 _Helping Dorcas find her way home, be back in a bit. -A_

Kingsley cursed under his breath, but quickly fixed his lips into a comforting smile and gave the boy a hug.

"Your nana left us this! It says she had to run an errand. She's helping a friend. It's _very_ important and she doesn't want you to worry. She asked me to stay with you. She'll be back by lunch."

"Nana not dead?" His words were still muffled, but now it was because he was sucking on his first two fingers. He sniffled, the tears still falling, but looking relieved nonetheless.

"No, she's fine. Let's get you dressed and fed."

"We don't have food," sniffled Teddy, still sucking his fingers. "'Cept toast."

"What? You must."

"We don't."

How was that possible? Kingsley had left them only enough food for a couple of weeks, but he'd assumed she would go shopping for more during that period. It wasn't as if she was busy working; she had the time. And she couldn't be out of money. He'd paid for her facility stay and her two hospital stints, Narcissa and Severus hadn't charged her anything while caring for Teddy, and her home was completely paid off., thus she had few bills. Even without her job, she must have savings: Nymphadora's pension, money from the orphan fund, Ted's retirement account... her own retirement account... something!

Feeling somewhat sleep-deprived and more than a little annoyed by the situation, Kingsley sent Teddy up to wash his face and brush his teeth, reminding him that he's a "big boy" and could do it all on his own, then went into the kitchen to investigate.

Sure enough, the cupboards and refrigerator were bare, even more so than when he'd stocked them a month before in preparation for her homecoming. He sighed, doing a thorough search in case she'd merely reorganized things. That didn't appear to be the case, unless she reorganized all of the food to the backyard or something nonsensical. He then gave another once-over to what she did have.

There were two eggs left in the carton. Thanks to the dulled shade of their shells, he could tell these were duplicated from previously purchased eggs, which were generally good enough for baking but not anything one would want to eat fried or soft-boiled. The same could be said of the bread. Toasted or grilled it wouldn't be bad, albeit somewhat tasteless, but not ideal for a sandwich as it had clearly been magically created from an already existing loaf. The can of beans was expired, which meant she's purchased it since he'd done the shopping, as he'd purged her kitchen of out-of-date food. She'd probably gotten it at a discount; there was a local Muggle shop that sold such items after they were donated from larger stores, with the intention they be purchased by the poor.

Kingsley felt a pang of guilt, even though there was no reason he should have been keeping track of her food situation. He sat at the table and pressed his fingertips to his temples, willing away the headache that wanted to form. Soon enough, he could hear Teddy sliding down the stairs on his bottom. Before he reached the last one, Kingsley came into the hall and scooped him up.

"Let's get dressed and go out to eat."

He carried the boy back up to his bedroom and helped him pick out a blue shirt and tan shorts, blue knee socks, and white trainers. He then went into Andromeda's bedroom, where he chose a Muggle-style outfit out of the several he kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser, alongside his overnight bag. There was a small, dark pub within walking distance that served a full English all day; it would be the ideal place, as anywhere populated by their kind might lead to folks talking or taking pictures, printing more negative stories about the Minister and his... whatever she was.

By the time they were out in the sun, walking hand-in-hand, Teddy seemed to be in a slightly better mood. He skipped and hopped and chattered to Kingsley about his paint set (a gift from Draco) and his broom servicing kit (from Harry). He talked about Harry and Ginny's baby, Draco and Hermione's upcoming wedding, and his own plans to be an Auror someday, like Mummy, or a professor, like his dad. He did not mention his grandmother at all.

At the pub, they found a round wooden table in the corner with two chairs. Teddy sat on his knees across from the Minister, oblivious to the stares they attracted. Kingsley sighed. He should have suspected a pale-white, pink-haired five-year-old accompanied by a forty-something Nigerian man to whom he was clearly not related might turn heads, especially as the place didn't look like it was frequented by any but faithful locals - the fifteen people present all seemed to know each other, setting the two wizards apart from go.

"What would you like to drink?" asked their waitress, smiling at Kingsley.

"Coffee for me, sugar, no milk, and orange juice for him," he answered.

"Your son is adorable," she said, but it was with a hint of question; she clearly expected him to reply explaining his relation to the boy. Kingsley would not oblige.

"Thank you." He returned the smile politely. "Teddy, do not play with the vinegar bottle, please."

"Sorry." Teddy set it back down on the table and repositioned himself to sit cross-legged in the wooden chair.

When the waitress, still smiling (but less broadly) left their table to fetch the drinks, Teddy grinned at Kingsley.

"What?" asked Kingsley.

"Nuttin'."

"Why so happy now?" Kingsley was genuinely curious. The boy looked like Christmas had come early. "You are excited about orange juice?"

"Nana always says, 'I'm not his mother' when people say 'your son is adorable.'"

"Ah." Kingsley cleared his throat and reached to rearrange the bottles on their table. Vinegar, ketchup, soy sauce. Who was having their breakfast with soy sauce? Who was eating any of the pub's fare with soy sauce? "Teddy, I love you and your grandmother, but no matter what happens between us..."

"I know." Teddy's face fell a little. "You're not my dad and she's not my mummy."

"Right." He cleared his throat again and placed his hand over one of the boy's. "And no matter what happens... with us adults... you can still trust me... count on me. The same way you can Harry and Ginny. Family... family do not have be to related, do you understand? We all have the family we're born into and the family we choose."

"Okay," said Teddy agreeably, but Kingsley was certain he didn't really understand. Before he could come up with a decent explanation, the waitress had returned with coffee and orange juice and was ready to take their food order.

They took their time eating. Kingsley encouraged conversation, wanting to prolong the meal, as he had no idea what they'd do to kill the time between their arrival back at the house and Andromeda's return, but eventually there was nothing left on the their plates or in their cups, so Kingsley paid the waitress and they started for home. The boy bounced as he walked, tugging on the Minister's hand. Kingsley lifted him up a couple of times, the way he liked, making his leaps and bounds bigger than he could manage on his own. But when they were perhaps two minutes away, the jumping stopped, and Teddy became pensive.

"Kingsley, can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"You won't get mad?" Teddy blinked up at him with wide blue eyes - eyes that had been a golden hazel moments before. Kingsley tried to smile reassuringly.

"I won't get mad."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"When Hope asked, Nana and Auntie got mad, I think." Teddy fidgeted, still holding the Minister's hand. "And I telled her the answer then I think they got more mad. They went in the kitchen and we had to stay out."

Now he was a tad bit concerned. Still, he was insistent. "You can ask me anything."

"Thanks." Teddy took a deep breath before posing his question. "What's a whore?"

Whatever Kingsley was expecting, that wasn't it.

"It's... Why would you ask that?"

"A man at the supply shop called Nana 'the Minister's whore.' I don't know what he meaned, but I think Nana got mad when I telled her."

"It's not a nice word, Teddy. It's..."

"It's a inappropriate word like Uncle Severus doesn't like?"

"Yes." Kingsley stopped walking and bent down on the sidewalk, facing the boy. "It's a rude word for a woman. Your grandmother is my..." _(My what?!)_ "My special friend, and some people do not like that. So they call her inappropriate names, to hurt her feelings."

"But what is it _mean?"_

"What _does it_ mean," Kingsley corrected, buying time. "It's a nasty word for someone who has a lot of... special friends."

"All my friends are special," said Teddy, the expression on his face one of such sweetness and innocence it nearly broke Kingsley's heart. "Special is good. Nana says I'm special on account of how my hair can change, and I can do my nose now, too."

"You are indeed special." Kingsley tapped his index finger to the tip of the boy's nose, which promptly morphed to resemble his own. "It's a different sort of special with adults. Like Hermione and Draco. They are... special friends."

"No, they are girlfriend and boyfriend," argued Teddy, giggling. "That's not special! It's foul!"

Kingsley couldn't help laughing too.

"It's special to them!" He stood, stretched, and took Teddy's hand again.

Soon enough, they were back at the house. Teddy showed off his new paints, broom kit, action figures, and stuffed animals, and Kingsley feigned being extremely impressed by each item even though he'd seen them all before. When lunch time rolled around and Andromeda still hadn't returned, Teddy began to worry again, despite Kingsley's attempts at distraction. He paced and scratched his arms and asked several times if the Minister was certain she wasn't dead.

"I'm certain she's just late," said Kingsley, regretting having said she'd return before lunch.

"I don't like her late," said Teddy. He dumped out one of his toy boxes, which contained plastic blocks he hadn't played with in years, and began organizing them by color, neatly stacking them back in their box. He glanced at the front door every few seconds.

Around one, unable to watch this scene any longer, Kingsley took the boy out again. They had a light lunch in Hogsmeade, as he no longer cared whether anyone saw them together - surely it had to be better than attracting whispers in a Muggle establishment. At least at Madam Puddifoot's they could have cheese sandwiches and tea (pumpkin juice for Teddy) and they were close to Hogwarts, where Kingsley had a two o'clock meeting with the Headmistress, previously scheduled. He'd left a note for Andromeda so she wouldn't worry, but when they returned at four-fifteen, the note was still on the table, and she was still gone.

This sent Teddy into hysterics again, as he was now positive she had been killed somehow.

"Nana's never coming back! Just like in my bad dreams!"

This time, the boy was not so easily consoled. Eventually, he cried himself to sleep in Kingsley's arms.

When Andromeda finally returned home, it was nearly six.

"I can explain," she started, hands up as if in surrender, upon catching sight of Kingsley's furious face.

"Explain quietly. Teddy is asleep."

"Asleep?" She glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's nearly dinner time."

"Nearly dinner time, and before breakfast you said you'd be 'back in a bit.' Where the fuck have you been, woman?"

"Don't use that tone with me, and don't call me woman." She shoved past him to drop her handbag on the couch. "It took longer than I'd expected, and..."

He grabbed her by the bicep and turned her, pulling her toward him, inhaling as he did so. "I smell alcohol."

"I wasn't drinking it."

"What were you doing, bathing in it? You reek."

"It was... no, I..."

"Do you have any idea how upset he was to wake and find you missing?"

"I... I left a note..." She tried to extricate herself from his grip, but he held tighter. She waffled between feeling defensive and apologetic. And also, perhaps, slightly scared. He'd never grabbed her like this before. She'd never seen him such anger in his eyes, not even during their fight at the facility. She was confident he'd never hit her, never physically hurt her, but at the same time, muscle memory made certain she knew she'd been jostled around like this before... by someone who wouldn't hesitate to backhand a woman.

Kingsley hissed his inquiry, careful not to wake the boy. "Where. The fuck. Were you?"

"You... you don't talk to me that way." Her voice trembled.

"No, usually, I don't," he agreed, forcing himself to change his tone. "But I need to know. _Where were you?_ You stink of gin."

"I wasn't drinking it!" She chewed her lip and averted his gaze. She felt hot under his eye, and not in a good way. "It was spilled on me, all in my hair, and I used Evanesco, but the smell lingers even after the..."

"That twelve week program was the last ditch effort, Andromeda."

"Kingsley, I..."

"Your kitchen was bare." He released her arm, finally, and went for his wand before taking her chin in hand. She flinched, but he used the wand only to check her breath for alcohol, the way Aurors were taught when dealing with public disturbances. When the tip lit up red rather than blue, indicating sobriety, she wrenched away.

"I told you I hadn't been drinking it."

"Why was your kitchen bare? You haven't been to the market?"

"I'm... low on funds."

"How is that possible?" He had to work to keep from growling his words rather than speaking them, and though he managed, the ire was not absent from his tone.

"I haven't been working! I..."

"What about what's left of Ted's money? Or Teddy's? Are you saving it for his school? I'm sure if you needed to borrow against it..."

"It's gone, alright?" She wasn't keeping her voice down now. "The money is gone! All of it, it's all gone!"

"Gone? How can that be? You spent everything in under a month?"

"It's... it was gone before, Kingsley! I spent it!"

"On what?"

"What do you think?" She tapped the track marks along her inner left forearm. "I didn't jump into bed with him straight away. But the first time, it was a galleon. Then two. Then five, and then ten and twelve and fifteen, and I needed it twice a day nearly every day by the end just to feel even, and..."

"You're telling me you put every knut of that money - of _Teddy's_ money, the money _your daughter_ worked for - into your arm?"

"I didn't jump into bed with him straight away!" she repeated, as if that would soften the blow from her confession. "I didn't do it until I had no other choice, when the money was... when the money..."

"It's all gone." He shook his head in disappointment and disbelief. "Where were you today that someone spilled gin all over you?"

Her answer came in the form of a pained whisper. "The brothel above the betting parlor in Knockturn Alley."

"I won't look the other way as I did last time, Andromeda." He shoved his belongings into the carpet bag and waved his wand, sending it back upstairs. He would not be sleeping on her couch tonight. "If you cannot manage to take care of-"

"I can take care of myself!" she interjected insistently.

"I was going to say Teddy. If you cannot manage to take care of Teddy in the way he deserves, I'll have him removed from your custody. The Ministry can do that, and as Minister, I have the power to-"

"He's mine!"

"But _should_ he be? You put him through unnecessary emotional anguish today, woman. He-"

"Don't bloody call me woman, you holier-than-thou horse's arse."

"I'll thank you not to insult me, especially as I am trying to help you."

"Help me?" She let out a bitter chuckle. "How is _this_ helping me?"

"I am helping you by reminding you that if you fuck up again, the boy-"

"It's not your place to tell me about Teddy!"

"You freely admit you weren't the best parent to Nymphadora and I've given you leniency as far as Teddy is concerned, but-"

"I am _not_ a bad parent!"

"Really?" He chuckled bitterly and threw up a hand. "Let's examine the evidence. You spent the entirety of today at a brothel under a fountain of gin while he was home without sufficient food, left in the care of someone who had no idea when you'd return, and he was worried sick... Merlin's beard, woman, what would have happened had I left this morning?"

"Don't call me wom-"

"I told you I had an appointment with Minerva. I had to bring him with me."

She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I forgot."

"What if I hadn't taken him with me? What if I had Flooed home this morning assuming you were both asleep? He might have awoken to find himself alone in the house, unable to read your note, nothing to eat, no one to calm or comfort him, unable to reach anyone to..."

She felt cold and clammy picturing such a scenario, and her hand shook as she pointed toward the fireplace. "My sister is right next door!"

"Your sister is not his mother!"

"Neither am I!" She sounded on the verge of hysterics, but she did not cry. "I am not his mother."

"No." He laughed caustically. "You're not. And you haven't been acting like you are. So, perhaps, you shouldn't be."

Her face flushed as her eyes flashed, but on the inside, she felt more sick than anything else. She hadn't wanted so badly to get high since her release than she did in this moment. She would give almost anything to have a needle in her arm now, to float away, to forget. She knew he was right and she knew she should apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but that wasn't the sort of person she was, thus she bit back instead.

"Fuck you, Kingsley Shacklebolt! How dare you insinuate-"

"I _insinuate_ nothing. I am saying it straight out: I am not convinced staying with you is in his best interest. I failed to intervene the last time you fell apart, and look at the pain my inaction caused him, caused you both. If you're going to go straight back out and start-"

"I wasn't drinking! I was-"

"Being selfish."

"I was helping a friend!"

"You have no duty to your 'friend,' and every responsibility to-"

"Don't you lecture me on my responsibilities!" Her voice was shrill, it hurt her ears to hear it, but she was losing control. Her brain felt scrambled and dizzy. Things were getting better. She'd slept for two nights, they'd nearly had sex, she had a job interview scheduled for Tuesday... and now, suddenly, it seemed it might all slip away, all because she tried to do right by a girl who had no one. How could this go so wrong?

"I won't leave him in another unsafe situation, Andromeda. You didn't see him this afternoon, pacing, scratching himself. He reorganized his toys for nearly an hour while I tried to distract him with other-"

"He's fine!"

He regarded her sternly, like a professor or a father. "I won't let you hurt him again."

"Where will he go then, Minister?" She glared back at him, fury now etched across her face too, but they both knew it was but a mask for her fear. "Narcissa has her own life to worry about, Draco's about to get married, Harry just became a father, they don't have the time nor the-"

"If I have to take him in myself, I will. Ask yourself, Andromeda, what's most important to you? Helping your friend at a brothel where the alcohol flows freely-"

"But _I_ wasn't drinking!"

"Or being the parent that emotionally brittle orphaned boy deserves?" He gestured toward the stairs, then, remembering that said boy was asleep, he took several deep breaths with his eyes closed to relax so he could speak his next words calmly, quietly. "I need to leave before I say something truly regrettable." He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Give my apologies to Healer Smelthwick; I am unable to attend our session tomorrow. I shall see you next Sunday."

And before she could say another word, he was gone.

She stormed into the kitchen to make tea, desperate to relax before waking Teddy for dinner. She planned to give him eggs again, provided Kingsley hadn't cooked them up that morning. She hadn't eaten all day and didn't feel she needed to.

She used her wand to put the kettle on, and when she opened her refrigerator to get the milk out she gasped.

It was as fully stocked as it had been upon her return from the facility.

A quick check proved that the cupboards were the same.

Canned goods, bread, milk, eggs, sausage, chicken, fresh fruits and vegetables...

Enough food to last at least a month, more if she stretched it out again.

She sunk to her knees on the cold kitchen floor and dissolved into tears, which is how Teddy found her a short time later. His hands flew up to his face, covering his eyes, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. When he brought them down again, he started to rush forward, but hesitated upon realizing she was crying.

"Sad Nana?"

"Very sad," she said, holding her arms out for a hug. He flew to her, content to be enveloped in her embrace.

"Why sad?" He held her tight, like he might never let go. His fingers were wet so she knew he'd been sucking them again, and his hair looked like hers. Dark, wavy, shoulder-length. He pet her face gently. "Nana? Why sad?"

"Nana said some mean things to Kingsley and hurt his feelings."

"Kingsley says he's your special friend."

She snorted. "Did he, now?"

"Yes." Teddy hugged her again but quickly pulled away. "Nana, you smell... funny."

"I need a shower."

"Teddy want come too. Teddy sit shower, Nana."

Great, he was back to baby talk.

She sighed. "Fine."

He sat with his back against the tub, talking about his morning with the Minister, as she tried to wash the lingering gin scent from her hair, which had gone wild and curly again thanks to a combination of the alcohol and the humidity - an unpleasant visual reminder that she was still the person she'd always been. Teddy slept with her that night, of course, and he had to be dragged away by Narcissa the next morning before Healer Smelthwick's arrival.

"No Kingsley today?" the woman asked, concern evident in her bright brown eyes.

"He's unhappy with me." Andromeda knew she should tell the woman why, but she wasn't able to voice it, not quite yet, so instead she said, "Did I ever tell you about our first night together? Not that time in the storeroom, but the first full night, when... when I went to bed with him?"

"Not in detail. I know he told you he didn't think you resembled your sister."

"Right." Andromeda smiled sadly at the memory. How she had loved him in that moment. And, that night, though they'd just shared their first date and were both technically still seeing other people, she had felt loved by him in a way she'd never felt with any but Ted... and hadn't fully felt _with_ Ted since before her affair with a coworker when Nymphadora was small.

"I know you told me to stop saying I don't deserve him, but Adelaide... What I've put him through in this last year... He asked me to marry him, and I said no, and it hurt him, and I wouldn't tell him why, and since then, I've... He deserves a much better woman, a less broken one, one who won't... who won't say such awful things to him, who won't... A woman who will love him the way he loves, without... without my baggage, and..."

"Tell me what happened yesterday, Andromeda, please."

"I can't. I can't, not yet. But I'll tell you about our first night together.

 _They were on the couch at his place, facing each other, a crackling fireplace across from them. It was February, 2001. Just days earlier they'd had sex in the storeroom at St. Mungo's. Tonight, they'd gone to dinner, but left early to eat ice cream in his sitting room._

 _"Men tell me I look like my sister, Bellatrix," she blurted as he leaned forward to kiss her. Why she was suddenly nervous, she did not know._

 _"Do they?" he asked. He cradled her cheek and examined her face. "I don't see the resemblance."_

 _She let him kiss her. She kissed him back._

 _And it wasn't long before they were doing more than kissing. His hand went to her breast, hers to his lower back, and she was guiding him on top of her, and he was responding enthusiastically._

 _His mouth found her ear. He traced the shell of her ear with the tip of his tongue before briefly sucking the lobe between his lips. The sensation sent tingling shockwaves down her spine and into her lower abdomen and between her legs, radiating out, warming her entire body._

 _"Come to bed with me," he requested, his voice deep and low and steady. "We don't have to do anything, but I'd like to you spend the night."_

 _"Spend the night?"_

 _"Yes. Please. As I've already made clear, I want more than casual sex with you. Spend the night with me."_

 _"You should know, I am utterly impossible to live with," she answered, unable to stop the words from tumbling out from between her lips. "It's because I'm obsessed with neatness and cleanliness and order."_

 _"I am not bothered by how obsessed with neatness you may be, and it is fine with me if you'd rather not have sex. If you want to put things in order, you may. If you want to do nothing but sleep, that's fine." He brushed back her hair, gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, and smiled down at her with the sweetest, most sincere expression she'd seen on a man since her wedding night. "I just want you with me."_

 _She started the evening relatively certain it would end in sex, but if she was having second thoughts, that quashed them._

 _"Take me to your bed, then," she whispered. "I want all night with you."_

 _His bedroom was comfortable, lived-in, not at all what she'd expect considering the tidiness of his office and how put-together he always looked. There was a desk in the corner covered in books and parchment and old Prophets. His laundry hamper had overflowed; there were silk pants and cotton robes on the floor. His books seemed to be arranged haphazardly on their shelves and a painting on the wall was crooked. A near-empty butterbeer bottle was on the bedside table and an overweight barn owl sat atop her cage, staring at them with discerning yellow eyes. Andromeda had half a mind to tell him to get under the covers and wait for her then clean it up, but she pushed this notion aside and let herself be lowered onto the unmade bed._

 _They kissed and touched and did not progress to more for what felt like hours. It was after midnight by the time her dress had been discarded and he was down to satin boxers. Again he reminded her that they did not need to have sex._

 _"Do you not want to?" she asked, wondering if it were possible he wasn't interested (though if the tenting of those boxers was any indication, he was_ very _interested)._

 _"Just because we did before doesn't mean we have to," he said. "That was... rushed. I want this to be... different."_

 _This was the first time she truly realized he might regret how they'd initially come together, and she found it unsettling._

 _"We don't_ have _to," she said, arching her chest up as his mouth found her clavicle, "But I'd like to... if_ you _would."_

 _"I would." He peppered her chest with smooth kisses as he hand went to the closure of her bra, which was in the front. He moaned, eyes half-closed, when her breasts popped free of the material, which he then dropped to the floor._

 _He complimented her over and over as they explored each other, but in a way that felt genuine, reverent, and not sleazy or for show. He discovered the port-wine stain on her thigh. Barnaby, her then-boyfriend, avoided accidentally touching it, as if it were contagious. He wasn't obvious about it, but she noticed the way his hand recoiled if accidentally set upon it. Kingsley, on the other hand, smiled and said, "Ah, a witch's mark," before pressing his lips to the center._

 _"They don't call them that anymore," she said, going slightly pink-cheeked._

 _"It's purple. My favorite color," he replied._

 _"Mine too," she said, but the truth was, purple hadn't been her favorite until he'd worn in to dinner that night._

 _"I've wanted this for a long time," he confessed, as one of his talented hands found its way between her legs. "I lost my head that day at St. Mungo's, but I've wanted this -_ you _\- for a long time."_

"Me?" _She still couldn't quite believe it. He was the Minister for Magic - the bloody_ Minister for Magic! _\- and he'd been fantasizing about_ her _for a long time?_

 _She reached under the band of his shorts and touched him, cautiously at first, as if she wasn't sure she had permission even though he hissed and groaned with pleasure as her small hand wrapped around his cock. Though she knew it would seem silly to say out loud, it felt the way she imagined it would to hold the Elder Wand, forbidden, perfect, too powerful, too good for her._ _Eventually, she was panting and gasping and begging for him between kisses. He hooked his fingers under the sides of her knickers - lace and black, chosen with the intention of him seeing them - and began to slide them down her thighs._

 _But she stopped him._

 _"You should be aware, I burn in the sun. I cannot tan. I am simply too pale. Always have been."_

 _He chuckled, but left her lace pants where they were and moved back up to lay beside her, running his fingertips from one side of her ribs to the other._

 _"That's important. I'll make note of it."_

 _"Some men... some men like women who tan. In the summers. Or... year-round. But I... can't."_

 _"I like you fine the way you are. And, for what it's worth, I don't 'tan' much either."_

 _She blushed, he smiled, and they_ _resumed kissing. She did eventually consent to letting him remove the remainder of her attire, the knickers and her stockings, before he pulled off his own pants, finally exposing his cock to her. She wanted to touch it, to taste it, and he obliged her, though it wasn't long before he was telling her he needed to be inside her - he needed her. He said "need" rather than "want," just as he had in the storeroom, and the word made her stomach tighten and her pussy drip for reasons unknown._

 _He used a condom, which surprised her as she'd never before been with any man who offered to do so - on the contrary, she'd been the one to insist in the past. She wasn't sure whether she should feel insulted or put at ease by the fact that it hadn't even been a question with him. (He presumably hadn't had one handy in the storeroom)._

 _"I don't want children," he explained, though she hadn't asked for an explanation._

 _"Good," she said. "I can't give you children."_

 _He kissed her in response, rolled on the condom, and was soon enough inside her. He was large in both length and girth, but perfectly so, not so big that it was painful to take him fully. He started off slow and sensual - it felt more like lovemaking than a shag - but as he lost control his thrusts became rough, fast, erratic. She liked both speeds and styles equally. He massaged her clit with his thumb and kissed her over and over and brought her to orgasm before reaching his own, then he spent the rest of the night with his arm around her, his chest to her back, sharing a pillow._

 _Upon leaving his arms in the morning, she apparated directly to Barnaby, to tell him it was over._

 _She'd fallen for the Minister for Magic._

"Medusa's snakes, Andromeda! You should have warned me I'd need a cigarette and a shower after you were done speaking!" Adelaide snapped her wand, turning it into a paper fan, and fanned herself for several seconds before turning it back.

"I'm sorry! I hadn't intended to reveal... quite so much."

"Why did you? I'm not complaining, mind. It's just a lot to process." Adelaide couldn't hide a smirk. "About the bloody Minister for Magic."

"He used a condom for the first several months we were together, even though I assured him he didn't have to worry about getting me pregnant. We ran out while on holiday once, a long weekend away, and... and I suppose he never bought more."

"You were both seeing other people when you had that first date, weren't you?"

"Yes. I had Barnaby, and he was casually shagging Arthur Weasley's receptionist in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. But do you suppose he used them because he was afraid I might be dirty, or that I could be lying about not being able to conceive, or out of respect, or...?"

"I think you need to ask him. Where is he? What happened?"

"Let me tell you about the first time he told me he loved me. We'd been seeing each other for eight months. My sister and Severus were out, leaving us to mind Hope with Teddy, and-"

"Andromeda, as... enlightening... as it is to hear the intimate details of your relationship - and I _do_ mean intimate - I want to know why the man isn't here today. Right now. For this session. What happened?"

Andromeda sighed. She glanced at the clock. Plenty of time to talk it through. Damn.

She told the truth. All of it. Where she'd been the day before, how she'd left Teddy with Kingsley, their fight, his stocking of her kitchen, the way she'd spent the night searching the house for any alcohol that might have been missed when Narcissa cleaned it out.

"You intended to drink?"

"I... I don't know what I intended," Andromeda answered honestly. "It was a difficult night."

"I have to be honest, as a Healer, and as a mother and grandmother, I _am_ worried about Teddy."

"You should be." Andromeda ducked her head, staring down at the fringe-edged pillow in her lap. "Kingsley's right, I'm a terrible parent."

"Did he say terrible? Or did he say he's not convinced you're the best parent for Teddy right now?"

"Right now," she mumbled. "I make poor decisions. I shouldn't have gone with her to the brothel. I tried to convince her to come here. That's why I went to the facility. I thought I might be able to stop her from returning there, but she insisted it was her home, and promised while she'd continued working, she wouldn't continue using. She said she could show me the place, introduce me to the girls she lives with. She shares a bedroom with two others. A man tried to... a man expressed interest in me and I told him to fuck off. He pushed me against a wall and tried to kiss me so I kneed him in the groin. He threw the gin bottle, which hit me in the head and shattered, getting glass and gin in my hair and knocking me out. She levitated me into her room and stayed with me until I came too, then I begged her not to stay there. I promised I'd find her a job elsewhere, which is ridiculous as I can't even find one for myself."

"You put yourself in a dangerous situation," said Healer Smelthwick, gently but firmly.

"Yes."

"And you hurt Teddy in the process."

Andromeda twirled the fringe around her finger. "Yes."

"Was it worth it?"

"It would have been, if Dorcas would have consented to come here instead of staying there. It's dangerous there. The men are... they aren't nice, clearly."

"It's not your job to save her."

"Yes, but..."

"She is not Nymphadora."

Andromeda's head snapped up. She made eye contact with Adelaide, but her expression was completely unreadable.

"Why would you say that?"

"Your older sister - the woman who murdered your daughter - took this girl under her wing because she lacked a decent mother, and I cannot help but wonder why you're now aching to fill that void for her. As a girl she needed a mother, perhaps she still does, but you don't have to be that mother."

"I didn't have a mother at her age either. Mine had disowned me, and life was difficult."

"I know."

"It has nothing to do with Nymphadora."

"I think you'd like to believe that."

Andromeda shook her head vehemently, but the Healer's position was unchanged.

"I think it's noble that you'd like to help her, but you are not in the position to do so at the moment, are you?"

"Kingsley certainly doesn't think so."

"Kingsley is concerned about Teddy. As am I. And I believe he's concerned about you - we both are."

Andromeda played with the corners of the pillow, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. The truth was, she was concerned about Teddy too. Had she found alcohol in the house last night, she would have drank every drop, no matter what it was, despite knowing full well it could send her spiraling into relapse.

"I need to think," she said.

"I''ll see you next week," replied Adelaide, nodding toward the clock. Their session was more than over. "I hope Kingsley will rejoin us then. Should I reach out to him?"

"Probably," said Andromeda off-handedly. "Since he's the one paying you."

Immediately after Adelaide departed, Andromeda poked her head into the fireplace to call upon Narcissa.

"Could you keep Teddy for a few days? The week, perhaps? I... I need to get my head together."

Narcissa shook her head adamantly. "I have that engagement party this Friday, I have work to do, I'm coordinating all of the-"

"I'll ask Harry, then. Or Draco."

"Andromeda!" whined Narcissa, punctuated by a little foot stomp. "Draco can't do it, he's busy focusing on his wedding and his foundation while Hermione works! And the Potters have an infant, they can't be-"

"I'm desperate, Cissy! You do it, please? Just a few days. I need a few days. I'll die otherwise. I mean it. I need space, and he doesn't give me any, and I need to gather my thoughts, and..."

"I'll keep him here, then." Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her sister's face in the fire. "But if you're shifting him off on me so you can get pissed or high or go on holiday..."

"None of those things, I assure you. Thank you, Cissy. I'll send a bag for him."

Narcissa heaved an overdramatic sigh. "Fine. And you'll be at the dinner on Friday? You promise?"

"Absolutely. I already arranged a nanny for the evening for the children, too. You said there will be five little ones?"

"No, four. Molly Weasley's going to take her two grandchildren, so all that will be at the Manor are mine, yours, and Hermione's younger siblings, the twins."

"I have someone to watch them, then. She'll be great. I'll bring her with me and she can nanny them right there in the nursery. This way, if we need to check on them for peace of mind..."

"Very well."

"Narcissa!" called Severus. "Are we going out for dinner? Butters needs to know."

"I have to go. I'll tell him Teddy's staying. But Andromeda, really, you must-"

"Thank you!" Before her sister could finish her thought, Andromeda pulled her head from the fire and waved her wand, temporarily closing herself off from the Floo network. She then went around the house placing anti-apparition jinxes in every room and setting news wards, the way she had during the war after Death Eaters paid a surprise visit to torture her and Ted for information about Harry Potter's whereabouts and the Order.

On Monday, Andromeda sulked around the house feeling sorry for herself. She did not dress, nor did she shower, and she spent far too much time in bed staring at the ceiling.

On Tuesday, she finally cooked herself a decent meal, her first in a couple of weeks, and did several days' worth of crossword puzzles. She was slightly out of practice, but she managed to complete each one.

On Wednesday, she went on a job interview at the Wizarding Wireless Network, the radio station with a branch located in Hogsmeade and another in Central London. She had applied to be the receptionist in the newer station, the one in London. She was anxious when she saw the man conducting the interview - the way he smiled at her made her uncomfortable at first - but once she was in his office awhile she was able to relax. He was perfectly professional. He questioned her about how long she'd been directing foot traffic at St. Mungo's (over fifteen total years), why she'd left and returned years later (she explained her daughter had been killed in the war, leaving her alone to raise a grandson), and whether she was capable of being prompt, organized, and friendly to incoming talk show guests. She assured him she was adept at all three.

"Thank you, Mrs. Tonks." He stood and reached out to shake her hand. "We'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Mr. Moribund," she said. "I look forward to hearing from you."

On Thursday, she slept late for the first time in she couldn't be sure how long, made herself a filling breakfast, and took a long, hot shower. She had decided to pick Teddy up today.

But when she tried to take him from Narcissa and Severus' home next door, the boy refused to leave with her.

"Go 'way, Nana," he said, refusing to look in her direction. "I'm mad at you."

"Why are you mad at me?" She crouched down beside him on Hope's bedroom floor, where he was lining up her alphabet blocks. "Are you still upset about Saturday, when I was gone all day?"

"You sended me away for all these days!" He picked up a Q block and threw it. It hit the wall and landed on Hope's toddler bed. "I live here now and I _hate_ you."

"But I love you." She tried to place a hand on his back but he pulled away, scooting to his left, out of her grasp. He continued lining up the blocks for a few seconds, then grabbed a B and threw it as he had the Q. This one landed short of the bed.

"Go home, Nana." This time he threw a G. She crawled close enough to kiss the top of his head, which made him twitch to shrug her off, then she retreated toward the door.

"I love you very much, Teddy," she reiterated. "You can stay here one more night, but tomorrow, after Draco's party, I'm taking you home, alright?"

"Not alright."

She couldn't see which letter he threw this time, but it hit the wall as the first one had.

"We'll talk tomorrow," she whispered.

Downstairs in the parlor, she relayed the conversation to Narcissa, who was seated on the couch with a cup of tea and the finalized menu for Friday.

"Well, what can you expect?" the well-dressed blonde asked without a trace of sympathy. "For three months he lived here wishing he was with you, you take him back for a few weeks, then, without any warning, you leave him with us again for several days with no known end date. He's becoming a behavior problem, you know. Yesterday he hit Hope for taking one of his biscuits, Tuesday he spit at the dog, and on Monday he called me a whore because I said it was bath time. Severus was not amused. He made the boy write lines."

"He can barely form his letters!"

"I know." Narcissa glared at Andromeda and even without Legilimency the latter knew it the look was because the youngest Black considered his lack of proficiency in written English his grandmother's fault. "It took him bloody forever. Hope is a full two-and-a-half years younger and she can write _all_ of her letters."

"That's because you're a better parent than I am, Cissy." Andromeda laughed. "A better wife, a better mother, and better person. Congratulations, of the three of us, you've turned out best."

"It isn't a competition, Meda."

"Isn't it?"

"Go home. Have one more night to yourself. Do with it whatever it is you do. Tomorrow, after the party, he'll be in a good mood, I hope, and he'll want to go home with you then. Is the nanny still a go?"

"Yes, she's looking forward to it." Andromeda shook her head despondently and headed for the door, as her home was still closed to the Floo Network. "See you tomorrow."

"Don't be late."

The party was a lavish affair, not because Hermione or Draco needed it to be, but because Narcissa did. She missed planning social soirees at Malfoy Manor as she had in her younger years, back when Lucius was a Ministry big-shot, on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and rubbing elbows with all the best of wizarding society.

Andromeda donned her prettiest gown, the one that had been Ted's favorite, purchased for a night out on their twentieth anniversary. It was a dark burgundy color with off-the-shoulder cap sleeves and a low, rounded neckline that, when worn with the right bra, gave her the appearance of more cleavage than she should've been able to naturally manage. She wore Nymphadora's silver locket around her neck and black stilettos that stayed on her feet thanks to a thin strap around the ankle. Her hair was pulled partly back and braided, her lipstick matched her gown, and her eye makeup was borderline smokey. She looked damned good for fifty... and it was disappointing to know Kingsley wouldn't be there to see her.

Andromeda arrived with the night's nanny in toe at ten till seven, as she wanted to get the children squared away before the start of cocktail hour. She banged on the door with the massive brass knocker. Her companion's eyes widened.

"Wow," she whispered. "This place is incredible!"

"Wait until you see the inside," said Andromeda. "It's obscenely ostentatious."

Butters, Narcissa's house-elf, granted them entrance, squeaking an excited hello. She led them to the drawing room, where Narcissa was waiting. The happy couple had yet to arrive.

"I've asked them to wait to come down until seven-thirty, so we can be assured all the guests will be present before they make their entrance."

"For fuck's sake, Cissy," said Andromeda, rolling her eyes. "It's an engagement dinner, not the actual wedding."

"Still, I want it to be perfect! So soap out your mouth, adjust your posture, and stop looking so sour." Narcissa was impeccably dressed too, in a gown that was no doubt brand new and altered to fit her to perfection. _How could she afford that on Severus' salary?_ Andromeda wondered. Perhaps she was still relying on inheritance from their parents or what Lucius' left behind. It was black with green and silver accents, every bit a Slytherin's attire, and her neck, ears, and wrists dripped diamonds. It was too much, really, but Narcissa had always been 'too much.'

"Is this the governess?" Cissy eyeballed the witch discerningly.

"Yes." Andromeda gestured toward the young girl, who was wearing an outfit borrowed from Andromeda's wardrobe, a simple black dress with a rounded collar, dark nylons, and simple flats. "This is Dorcas Kensington."

Narcissa inclined her head in greeting, not one to 'shake hands' with staff. "That name is awfully familiar. Have we met before?"

"No, ma'am, never," answered Dorcas with a teensy curtsy. Andromeda resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well, lovely to have you. The nursery is upstairs. Butters will show you the way." She snapped her fingers and Butters appeared. "The children are already up there. Hermione's mother is with them, but she needs time to get ready herself, so hurry there now."

"Of course, ma'am." Dorcas did that awkward little dip again and rushed out of the room on Butters' heals. There would be no apparition permitted within the Manor tonight. Guests would have to arrive way out by the front gate and make their way up the long walk, past albino peacocks and blooming gardens. Pomp and circumstance. All for show. Just like in their childhood.

Narcissa loved it.

Andromeda thought it was stupid.

"For your edification," said Narcissa, leaning close. "The house-elves have been instructed not to serve alcohol to either of us. I wanted to ensure you stay sober, and thought it wouldn't hurt to take extra care I not imbibe either. Your wine with dinner will be grape juice, as it most closely resembles the merlot in color and consistency, and your champagne for the toast will be apple juice, as will mine. Is that... alright?"

Rather than reply, Andromeda pulled her sister into a quick, tight hug. Narcissa smiled upon release, squeezed her hand, and hurried off to greet arriving guests - Fred Weasley and his wife, Angelina Johnson, closely followed by Ron Weasley with new girlfriend Lavender Brown, released from the facility about a month before Andromeda. Her facial scars were either covered with makeup or a Glamour (possibly a combination of the two). Andromeda wondered whether she should tell Narcissa to give the girl grape and apple juice too, but she wasn't sure it would be right to 'out' her as having been a patient, and besides, she didn't know what addiction(s) the young woman had been recovering from in the first place.

For half an hour, Andromeda wandered around the room, taking in the same portraits and pictures on the walls and mantle she'd seen countless times since the sisters reconciled years ago. She chatted about the weather and answered questions about Teddy when questioned by her nephew's friends, and she carefully avoided the trays of oysters, as oysters made her want champagne, and she didn't fully trust herself (or the house-elves).

Shortly before seven-thirty, a guest arrived who turned her head.

He was wearing traditional wizard's robes and his usual cap. He was wearing all purple.

Her stomach split in half and plummeted into her knees. He spotted her. He gave a little wave. She tried to smile.

"Oh, good!" Narcissa's exclamation almost made Andromeda jump. She hadn't realized her sister was standing behind her. "He's the last on the guest list. I'll tell Butters to send Hermione and Draco down now, and we can begin dinner momentarily!"

"Momentarily? Cocktail hour only started a half hour ago."

"There's no rule that says it _has_ to be an hour," said Narcissa as if speaking to a not-too-bright child. Andromeda was quite sure their mother would disagree, but she let it go.

"Will I be seated beside the Minister?"

Narcissa didn't answer. She was already rushing off to greet Kingsley, leaving Andromeda standing behind. Alone. Awkward. Unsure of herself, or of the status of their relationship, or anything else in the moment.

She was still standing there toward the back of the room, alone, awkward, minutes later when Draco and Hermione entered hand-in-hand. They were both a little pink in the face over all the unnecessary attention, but they were beaming at their guests, and at each other.

"Dinner shall be served momentarily!" announced the magically magnified squeaky voice of little Butters, who was speaking with a formality reserved for gatherings of this type. "Into the dining room promptly, please, all!"

It was there Andromeda got the answer to her question. She had, indeed, been seated beside Kingsley.

"Evening," he said softly as she took her place.

"Evening," she said, just as softly, avoiding his eye.

"You look beautiful."

She stole a glance in his direction. "As do you."

He chuckled, leaned close to her, and whispered in her ear.

"Let's talk later tonight."

"I'd like that," she replied, facing forward as if she hadn't felt his lips brush against her skin when he spoke.

"I've missed you," he murmured before pulling away.

Still keeping her attention forward, she whispered loudly enough for him to hear:

"It's mutual."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thanks times a thousand to **sassanech** and **somethingnew2016** for reviewing C16, and to **FrancineHibiscus** for reminding me about Nymphadora's pension money.

I'm super super sorry for the lack of Dramione! This chapter ended up being like 14,000 words long, which is just too damn long, so the party - and Dramione loveliness - has been moved to Chapter 18.

As an aside, regarding Kingsley's awkwardness in answering "what's a whore?" I had a similar moment tonight, reading Half-Blood Prince to Girl11 before bed. I completely forgot that Morfin calls Merope a "little slut" and had to explain what it meant. It felt more uncomfortable to me than trying to explain/define any other curse word thus far (and the kids know a lot of curse words, thanks to school and the internet). Ugh. So I feel Kingsley's pain... so to speak.

Unrelated, please be extra forgiving of typos for a little while. My laptop is missing (long story) so I have to write on my super old Macbook which doesn't have a word program, which means I'm typing directly into the document manager here, making it easier to miss mistakes. Thx!

 **-AL**


	18. Part Two: Week 5

**A/N:**

Alerts have been sporadic, so make sure you read C17 before this one!

(Also, be forewarned, this chapter is over 10,000 words long... Sorry!)

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

 **END OF WEEK FIVE**

"Kingsley! Glad to have you back." Adelaide smiled warmly at the man on the couch. "How are you?"

"We're having sex," said Andromeda.

Adelaide's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

"Should I leave you alone, then? Or do you require an audience?"

"I'm open for either, quite honestly. You don't happen to have one of those video cameras the Muggles use, do you?" Andromeda's eyes twinkled mischievously in a way Adelaide had never seen before, eliciting a chuckle from the Healer. Kingsley was not quite as amused.

"Is that something you're into?" asked Adelaide, reaching for her quill and inkwell. "I hadn't pegged the Minister for an exhibitionist, but..."

"No!" Kingsley shot Andromeda a Look. "We do not require an audience, thank you. Andromeda meant that we would rather not continue to abstain."

"Oh, I see." Healer Smelthwick chuckled again as she used to her wand to set the quill moving along the parchment. "In that case, let's discuss last week. Kingsley, I've heard Andromeda's side of your disagreement, but I'd like it if you could give me your take on the situation."

"I want him tonight," said Andromeda before Kingsley could respond. "Tomorrow at latest. Write that down." She gestured toward the quill. "Our relationship is a mess. It's broken and complicated and it may not last, but it's ours and... and we have needs. _I_ have needs. I'm dying."

"You're melodramatic," said Kingsley.

"Not at all," insisted Andromeda. "I'm fifty, and at fifty a witch reaches her sexual peak, and without an outlet for all of that pent-up sexual energy, she is at higher risk for early death."

"According to whom?" asked Adelaide, bemused.

"Witch Weekly."

"Well, it must be true, then!" The Healer held back an undignified snort. "If you can't trust the writers at Witch Weekly to give you adequate and up-to-date medical advice, whom can you trust?"

"She threw herself at me on Friday," teased Kingsley. "It is becoming increasingly difficult to say no."

"Because you don't want to say no." Andromeda tossed her hair over her shoulder haughtily. "You want me as badly as I want you even though we're both still sore at each other over that nasty row just over a week ago... which was seventy-four percent my fault, and for which I apologize."

"Could I borrow your quill, Adelaide? I want to mark this date on my calendar." Kingsley hid a smirk. "And every year henceforth we shall remember and celebrate the day Andromeda Tonks offered a genuine apology post-argument without it leading to a second argument."

Andromeda flipped him the two finger salute. "You know, Adelaide, in the past, when we'd be cross with each other, I would yell and scream and break a few things while he stood before me stoic and subdued and speak in calm tones that infuriated me further, then we'd end up in bed having delightful angry sex during which he'd ultimately forgive and forget about my calling him whatever I'd called him, and I'd end up too satiated to remember why I'd been upset in the first place, and upon waking up hours later we'd simply go along our merry way. I miss that."

"That's not quite accurate," said Kingsley.

"It's absolutely accurate," argued Andromeda. "If I could tell he was growing impatient or annoyed with me, first I'd tell him off, and then, when he was getting good and angry, all I'd have to do to distract him back into an even keel was kneel and-"

"She's over-simplifying." Kingsley cut her off. He placed two fingertips to each of his temples and applied pressure. He'd never been the most emotionally open person, especially not with veritable strangers, as the Healer still was (in most respects). He was, therefore, uncomfortable with this level of candor, though if Andromeda was going to share their secrets with the woman, they might as well be presented accurately. "Aside from once at the facility and once last week, we've never fought, though occasionally, after disagreements-"

"He's downplaying." Andromeda placed her hand just above his knee and squeezed. "We fought."

"They were disagreements, not fights."

"Are we going to fight about whether we've fought?"

"We're disagreeing about the severity of our disagreements. I do not believe they were dramatic enough to be labeled fights."

"We need sex." She turned her face toward Adelaide now. "You can feel the tension between us, can't you? Denying ourselves what we need isn't helping us. If we had a physical outlet for our stress, we would better be able to-"

"I understand," Adelaide cut her off. "I'm afraid my suggestion that you refrain from being together physically until we've worked on some of your issues has been... misconstrued. It isn't that I don't appreciate that... that you may need the physical outlet and the associated pleasures. But it isn't healthy to use a physical relationship to distract from the emotional relationship, and I thought some space and time apart would do you both well."

She scoffed. "We had three months of time and space after he had me committed."

"I wish you wouldn't say it that way." He sighed, a long, deep sigh, communicating his exhaustion over the frequent revisitation of this conversation. "I wish you would stop saying that I had you _committed._ It is more accurate to say that I had you admitted into the facility, in part to help you recover, and in part to help you avoid incarceration in Azkaban. I was helping you, not punishing you."

"It felt like a punishment!" Her deep-set dark eyes flashed dangerously in his direction. "I woke up in St. Mungo's with my wrists bound by magic to the side rails of the bed, then screamed for someone to unbind me until I passed out, and when I next opened my eyes, I was in the facility without a wand or any way of communicating with the outside world."

"You were delirious during those two days in St. Mungo's. You awoke several times but were incoherent, out of control, and belligerent. That is why they restrained you until you could be transferred. It was for your own good."

"Some good! I would have been fine if left alone." Her face clouded over. This was the first she was hearing about her time in the hospital. She had known she'd briefly been there, but had no idea it had been two days or that she'd behaved badly upon waking.

"Need I remind you, you had been found near-death with a needle in your arm, and when we arrested your dealer, he said-"

"I am quite certain I can work out for myself what he said."

"Two Aurors were called after you attempted to use a wandless Unforgivable on a Healer. They were prepared to arrest you on a number of charges. I am not usually one to use my name or position to pull strings, but I did it for you that day, and I've done it for you several times since." With a slight twinge of bitterness, he added, "You're welcome."

Her face went hot with shame.

"And, a couple of years ago, you pulled strings for Narcissa at my request," she softly reminded him. She couldn't help remembering that awful man in the facility who asked whether her preferential treatment would end upon the split with Kingsley. She hadn't viewed herself as having received better treatment than anyone else, save for not being thrown out for exchanging oral sex for drugs from that nurse, but she was wrong. She'd been very wrong.

"That was as much for her as it was for you," said Kingsley. "Narcissa did not deserve to rot in prison, regardless of what the law - or the Wizengamot - had to say about the situation."

"You let plenty of other people rot in prison," said Andromeda. "Because you were following the law to the letter. You let Lucius Malfoy be executed, along with how many others?"

"I regret that, now." He placed his hand over hers, which was still settled just above his knee. "The Wizengamot voted in favor of the executions and I saw it as my impetus to uphold the law as they saw fit to define it, a position I did not question until the protest your nephew and Ms. Granger helped organize. I was trying to help our world recover, but vengeance was not what we needed. It was not justice. I see that now."

"I spoke at that protest." Andromeda directed this toward Adelaide. "I was the one speaking when it turned into a riot. I was accused of being a Death Eater sympathizer and siding with my sister because I was against the executions of those who had been caught after the Final Battle. I was against Ministry-sanctioned murder; I didn't wish for them to go free. I wish my sister were alive to rot in Azkaban right now, and for the rest of her miserable life. Most of them... most of those in Hermione's organization... they were anti-execution born from compassion or a sense of justice - the belief that killing someone is never justifiable - but I thought executions were too good for them. I have to suffer every day on account of what they did. Why shouldn't they? What business was it of Molly Weasley's to kill my sister? Bella should have had to look me in the eyes and explain what she did and why she did it. She should have gone mad - well, madder - with the knowledge she'd so thoroughly destroyed someone she used to love. Why wasn't that Weasley woman charged with anything? Murder, even in battle, is supposed to be inexcusable. Dumbledore himself didn't even kill Grindelwald; he had him locked in his own internment camp. And Harry Potter did not use the Killing Curse on You-Know-Who. That monster essentially killed himself."

"Molly's use of the Extinguishing Curse in battle was excused as non-criminal as it was done in defense of another. Several others. Including her youngest child. Her son had just been killed; it was war. And your sister would not hesitate to kill - hell, she did it for sport. Would you not have done the same in Molly's position?" Kingsley took Andromeda's hand between his. Hers was, as usual, ice cold. He blew on it, then rubbed it between his, bringing back the blood-flow.

"It doesn't matter," muttered Andromeda, but the truth was, she didn't know what she would do. She'd had many dreams (both daydreams and nightmares) about murdering Bellatrix as Molly had... but she had just as many about forcing her to explain herself, about telling her the pain she caused, and about trying to cause her just as much pain... on an emotional level. Though her sister had been a sadist, she was no sociopath, and Andromeda wondered often whether she could have reached Bellatrix - the girl Bellatrix used to be - had she only tried.

Adelaide angled her body toward Kingsley as she changed the subject. "Are you ready to tell me what happened last Saturday? Why you couldn't be with us on Sunday? As I said, I've heard Andromeda's view. Now I need yours."

As Kingsley described his day, from waking up with Teddy sobbing into his shirt to storming out afraid he'd say something he couldn't take back, Andromeda forced herself to listen attentively, even though she didn't want to hear any of it.

After that the couple took her quickly through the previous week, including Andromeda's days without Teddy and Kingsley's visit to the Snape household.

"You visited them?" This was clearly news to Andromeda. "When?"

"Wednesday. Checking up on you, of course. I was surprised - and worried - to find Teddy there. I was even more surprised when I saw the way he was behaving. I'd never seen him like that before." He told both Andromeda and Adelaide about how the boy had been throwing a tantrum, which started prior to his arrival, during which he let loose a slew of 'inappropriate' words and threw as many of Hope's toys as he could get his hands on before Severus used his wand to move them all to a basket on a high shelf.

"That's awful."

"When he called the dog a 'filthy Mudblood,' I intervened."

"He called the dog a what?" Andromeda's eyes widened. She hadn't heard about this from her sister. She didn't even know he knew the word 'Mudblood.' As far as she knew, Narcissa and Draco never used it anymore, and she couldn't imagine Severus, Hermione, Harry or Ginny did either, and who else did he see regularly?

"I took him to lunch and we had a rather grown-up discussion about it. He seemed sufficiently chastened when I told him how very disappointed his parents would be to hear him using such language. I asked if he knew what 'filthy Mudblood' meant and he said no, but he'd heard the crazy lady in the portrait at Grimmauld Place scream it once and knew it was bad."

"Oh." Andromeda emitted a little sigh of relief. That 'crazy lady' in the portrait was her awful Aunt Walburga. While she didn't want him exposed to that wretched witch, at least she knew no one else in her life was teaching the boy that word.

"Did you explain it to him?" asked Adelaide, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on folded fingers. Near the floor, the quill scritched along the parchment at top speed.

"I defined it in what I thought was a child-appropriate way," confirmed Kingsley with a nod. "Then, when I told him it was a favorite word of the people who killed his parents, he cried and apologized. Later, when I returned him home, he also apologized to the dog."

"My sweet boy." Andromeda pressed her palms to her cheeks, covering her eyes with her fingers. "You should take him, Kingsley, just as you threatened. You'd be a much better parent than I. All I've done is hurt him."

"You've been his sole caregiver since he was a month old," Adelaide gently reminded her. "You have had your difficulties this year, I won't sugarcoat that, but when he was a newborn you fed him and changed him and spent countless sleepless nights holding and rocking him. As a toddler, you toilet-trained him, taught him to speak, helped him develop play skills and life skills, and tried to instill values into him. You've cared for him when he's been ill, healed him when he was hurt, comforted him when he was scared, soothed him when sad, and ensured he has grown up knowing he's loved. Being away for twelve weeks - being away not because you wanted to be away from him, but because you were sick yourself and needed help - does not negate any of what you did before."

"She's right." Kingsley slid closer to Andromeda on the couch, put an arm around her, and pulled her to him. One hand rubbed up and down her back as the other guided hers down from in front of her face. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, but did not open her eyes.

"You cannot beat yourself up forever because of what you did when not in your right mind," continued Adelaide. "And if you need to, sit down after he's asleep tonight and write yourself a list of things you've done for him or with him that are good. Write yourself a letter about it. You did well when you were writing letters."

"She wrote me a letter," said Kingsley. "While in your facility. She hasn't let me read it."

"I might never let you read it."

"The purpose of the letters wasn't to have anyone else read them," Adelaide pointed out. "Whether you share them, Andromeda, is entirely up to you."

"I'll write Teddy a letter," she said quietly. Her right arm was behind Kingsley, her left hand settled in the center of his chest, and she tried to will herself to forget how much she hated being physically consoled when upset. It mostly felt good, being close to him, and she wasn't going to let a little niggle of discomfort force her to retreat to the other side of the couch. "I'll save it for when he's older."

"He's angry right now, but he loves you," said Kingsley. "Let him be angry. He'll get through it in his own time."

"And in the meantime," added Adelaide. "Remind him that you love him and that you're here for him, but that you've been sick and while you'll take care of him whenever you are able, sometimes you'll need a break, to continue getting better, and tell him you hope he can try to understand."

"Until this past week, when he stopped speaking to me, he wanted to call me Mummy. I wouldn't allow it." Andromeda looked to Adelaide, her eyes slightly watery. "Do _you_ think I should allow it?"

"Oh, dear," said Adelaide. "This is a bit out of my element, but if you'd like to work through your feelings about mothering him..."

Much of the rest of the session was focused on Teddy, but they did return to the subject of sex shortly before their time was up.

"I am not giving you orders," said Adelaide. "Only suggestions. I personally don't feel it's healthy to engage in a physical relationship without first mending the emotional relationship, but you know yourselves better than I know you. You know what you can handle and what sex is for you... what it means _to_ you."

"And what of Dorcas?" Andromeda asked, as Adelaide stood to go.

"What about her?"

"I want to help her. And Severus..." Andromeda trailed off at Adelaide's expression. The Healer sighed and sat back down, regarding her patient carefully.

"You know I think Dorcas is a sweet girl with a lot of positive qualities, one who was dealt a rotten lot in life. But you cannot take it upon yourself to fix her situation while..." She huffed and started again. "You cannot help her rebuild her house while yours is crumbling into the foundation, understand? And I do not want you putting yourself in a dangerous position by going to her, where she is... where the roof could cave in at any moment. In general, I do not promote selfishness, but in this case, you must put yourself first - yourself and Teddy. Your health and sobriety and his well-being are your top priorities, this followed by your damaged relationships with your sister and Kingsley. Do for her what you can if you want to, but not at your own expense or the expense of those around you. She has been given the same tools you have, and I'd like to see her use them, and down the line, if a mutually-beneficial and not-at-all co-dependent friendship is formed between the two of you, I hope you'll both be all the better for it."

Andromeda nodded, Kingsley shook hands with the Healer, and they all agreed to see each other again in one week.

That was one day shy of one week ago.

This week had gone better for Andromeda. Teddy was home, Kingsley had been spending the night, and she hadn't been back to the brothel to see Dorcas, though they'd been owling.

On Saturday evening, while Kingsley was called away for a Ministry-related emergency, Andromeda tried to do the day's crossword puzzle to pass time until his return. But her mind kept flashing back to that party at Malfoy Manor...

Dinner had been pleasant, albeit somewhat uncomfortable at first due to her close proximity to her estranged lover. She wasn't sure whether to be glad Narcissa had seated them beside each other, or annoyed.

They hardly spoke during dinner. Aside from his compliment on her looks and the admission he'd missed her, he directed conversation primarily to the person to his opposite side, Luna Lovegood, who seemed to both amuse and confuse him.

"Why isn't the Ministry doing anything about Nargles?" the young blonde asked dreamily, vague concern evident in her eyes. "There's an infestation in Scotland, especially problematic at Christmastime as they prefer to live among the mistletoe. Every year it gets more and more out of control, and yet we've heard nothing from the Ministry. Is there a reason it's being covered up?"

"Er..." Kingsley glanced at Andromeda out of the corners of his eyes. She fought the urge to snicker. "I'll ask one of the employees of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to look into it."

Andromeda turned her attention back to the person to her left, Harry, who had just concluded a passionate discussion about Quidditch with Ginny, Ron, and Lavender Brown. Ron was sulking into his lamb because Ginny had insulted his low-ranked Chudley Canons, while Lavender pet his arm and tried to cheer him with reminders the season had just started.

"How is it, Harry?" asked Andromeda. "Fatherhood?"

"I love it. This is our first night out without James Sirius; he's with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tonight. We were looking forward to the time with other adults, but I don't think we'll stay long after dinner. We miss him."

"And my boobs are leaking," said Ginny, pressing her forearms to her chest. "I'm wearing special pads in my bra, but it's bloody uncomfortable. I should have brought him here to be watched by that governess you found so I could sneak up and nurse him before pudding."

"Where'd you find her?" asked Harry, cutting into his potato. "Ron thought she looked familiar when he popped in to say hello to Teddy, but she looked too young to have gone to Hogwarts with us."

"Can't place her," said Ron, his mouth full of meat. "Driving me barmy."

"She works at a store near Diagon Alley," said Andromeda noncommittally. "Perhaps you've seen her around. She probably stops in at George's joke shop every now and then. All of the young people do."

"Oh. That must be it." Ron shrugged, looking unbothered. Andromeda fought the urge to roll her eyes. He really was daft; what could Hermione ever have seen in him? She was reasonably certain _she_ could guess where he'd seen the girl before but she certainly wasn't going to point it out over dinner.

When Andromeda wasn't directly engaging with Potter and friends, she listened to other conversations around the table. It was an eclectic group comprised of people who would never have dined together a decade ago, including unlikely couples who all seemed quite content to be together. Andromeda glanced around, taking them all in.

Narcissa and Severus. Draco and Hermione. Harry and Ginny. George and Angelina. Goyle and Ambrosia. Neville and Luna. Minerva and Hagrid (not a couple, but attending together). Jean Granger and her new beau.

Kingsley and Andromeda.

After the dinner dishes had been vanished to the kitchen but before puddings were served, Narcissa insisted upon recognizing and toasting Draco and Hermione, which made both young lovers go slightly pink as Severus rolled his eyes.

"My sister loves this pomp and circumstance," Andromeda whispered in Kingsley's ear as Narcissa was insisting Draco say a few words about how the two went from childhood enemies to in love and engaged. "She always has. That, and being center of attention. I wouldn't be surprised if she wants to walk Draco down the aisle herself."

"I don't believe anyone walks the groom down the aisle," he whispered back, staring straight at the couple, his mouth barely moving a if they were two spies exchanging sensitive information in a public setting. "Perhaps she should be the one presiding over the union."

"She can learn to play piano and provide entertainment, too. She loved to sing for guests when we were children."

"Oh." He tapped his white cloth napkin to the corners of his lips before placing it on the table. "Was she good?"

"Not at all."

The two bit back sniggers, earning them a harsh look from Narcissa. Andromeda immediately began employing Occlumency, while Kingsley's face went as blank as Severus'. Andromeda was certain they were both employing Occlumency too - or, being men, maybe they were just better able to tune the woman out.

"At Hogwarts, Hermione and I were... not friends," said Draco, somewhat delicately, which earned a sprinkling of laughter from Gregory Goyle, Harry Potter, and all three Weasleys. "To be honest, I was probably a bit jealous of her. She was Muggleborn, and yet, she was the best in our year. The most talented witch to attend Hogwarts in ages, everyone said. Mother won't like me pointing it out, but I'd spent my entire childhood being told Muggleborns were inferior, that they weren't even worthy of their wands, so to be bested by one over and over - a girl, and Gryffindor, and Potter's best mate, to add insult to injury - it wounded my pride. This was compounded by letters from my parents asking why I wasn't top of the class and reminding me that it's embarrassing to fail where she was succeeding... Thanks, Mum and Dad."

"This is precisely why I asked you to write your speech down and let me read it ahead of time," said Narcissa, looking up at her son with a sharp warning glint in her eye. He was standing beside her, glass in hand, addressing his friends, with his free hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mother," Draco smirked mischievously. "In case there's any lingering confusing, she's married to a half-blood now, and likes to pretend that means she never held any prejudices against those who aren't pureblood, as if she hadn't tried to arrange my marriage to a fellow member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight when I was thirteen."

"Draco!" Narcissa smacked the back of her hand against his thigh. "Be _have_!"

He laughed, as did several of the younger guests, though Hermione politely hid her giggles behind her hand. Her mother, Mrs. Granger, was visibly surprised by this admission, while Kingsley now had his chin resting on his knuckles, staring at them with quiet contemplation. Snape looked impassioned, even bored, while Goyle shuffled uncomfortably, probably worrying he'd be called out for his bigotry next, but Draco moved on.

"After the war - which left me a changed man, cliche as it sounds - Hermione was assigned to be my Ministry-appointed Mentor, through a program formed by new Minister Shacklebolt..." Draco inclined his head toward the man, who nodded in recognition. "And a collective of like-minded witches and wizards who'd fought against You-Know-Who but weren't out for vengeance, including Percy Weasley..."

"Still a prat!" George Weasley broke in, earning him a "shush" from his wife, Angelina.

"Dedalus Diggle..."

"Good man, Dedalus," said Harry, grinning.

"And Hestia Jones," Draco finished.

"That slag," Andromeda whispered to Kingsley. He placed his hand atop her thigh under the table, a nonverbal quieting.

"At first, I resented the very existence of the program, and when I was told Hermione Granger would be coming to my home multiple times every week to turn me into a decent person, I nearly opted for Azkaban instead. To my surprise, from the very start she treated me better than I deserved, like the person I should have been instead of the one I was, and I found myself looking forward to her visits. Just knowing she could view me as a wizard worth knowing post-war gave me hope that I'd be able to assimilate back into our world, and repair my family's reputation, and have a future - though I didn't realize then how intwined in my future she'd be."

"Stop," said Hermione, now as red as Narcissa's carefully manicured nails. "All I did was talk to you."

"I know," said Draco. "And you talk too much. But I could listen to you forever."

This was met with several 'awwws' from their friends, including Ginny, Angelina, and Ambrosia. Andromeda gagged (but subtly). Kingsley nudged her.

"Be _have_ ," he said, copying Narcissa's intonation.

"But it's so sickeningly sweet," Andromeda hissed in his ear.

"You could do with more 'sickeningly sweet' in your life," he whispered back. "I could listen to _you_ forever, too."

"Fuck off, you could not."

"Of course I could." He turned his attention back to the happy couple. Hermione was standing now, and addressing the group. Kingsley couldn't help adding, "I'm highly adept at Self-Deafening Charms."

Andromeda covered her mouth with her napkin and turned her chuckle into a cough, though she earned a scolding look from Cissy anyway.

After chocolate souffles, the guests were invited to return to the Drawing Room where there would be entertainment, albeit not provided by Narcissa herself. A string quartet were set up in the corner, the fireplace was charmed to contain mingling red and green flames (for their respective Houses, presumably), and more champagne was being served.

"I would love a bloody drink," Andromeda confessed, looking longingly toward Ron and Lavender, who were clinking their flutes together and smiling at each other in a most obscene way. She seemed to be doing well outside the facility, Andromeda mentally noted. She wondered again what the girl had been in for, specifically.

"Apple juice?" asked Kingsley. "I'll drink it too."

"No, you have champagne. This way, later, I can taste in on your tongue."

"Speaking of tongues, hold yours." He nodded toward Harry and Ginny, who were heading in their direction. "I don't want Harry to lose respect for me when he realizes how little you have."

"I respect you," she said. They were standing side by side, arm against arm, not looking much like a couple in the moment, but not biting each other's heads off either, so she figured this was progress. "I can respect and fetishize you at the same time. I am as highly adept at multitasking as you are at Self-Deafening Charms."

"We shall revisit this later," he said stoically, not looking at her. His face broke into a grin as Harry and Ginny reached them, each holding out a hand to shake. "Are you happy for your friend, Harry? It must seem almost surreal to see her planning to marry a young man who was once, by his own admission, the enemy."

"Ron and I had a hard time with it at first," Harry admitted. "With them going together, I mean. Ginny too. Right, Gin?"

"Yeah, I thought she'd gone barmy. Or maybe hit her head. Or that he was cursing her somehow. The Imperius. Amortentia. Something." Ginny shrugged good-naturedly, choosing not to offer up the story of how very rude she'd been during their first double-date that ended in disaster. "But we've gotten to know him over the last few years, and he's not half as horrible as we thought... and he's not as dense and pathetic as Ron..." She glanced at her brother, who was holding the champagne flute Lavender was sipping from as if she were a baby and it was her bottle. Ginny shuddered. "So I can see why she's with Malfoy instead. At least _he's_ got class."

"Hey, Ron has class!" Harry, ever the good best friend, jumped to his mate's defense, but a quick gander in the ginger's direction made all their jaws drop.

"Why is she tickling him?" asked Ginny, horrified.

"Why is he loving it?" asked Harry, equally horrified.

"New young love and all that," said Kingsley, chortling. "Are you so jaded now that you're parents you've forgotten what it's like?"

"I was never like Lavender." Ginny pulled a face. "All motherhood changed about me is my position on the Quidditch team. I'm second string this season, until I'm back to full-time."

"Speaking of which, we probably won't stay much longer," said Harry with an apologetic shrug. "We miss the baby."

"Yes." Ginny pressed her forearms against her chest again, which was completely covered by a soft, dark gray gown with a higher neckline than she would usually wear to such an occasion. Her cheeks flushed. "And every time someone reminds me of him, it gets a little worse..."

"I know a charm to help with that. Come here..." Andromeda led her to the hall while Kingsley and Harry continued their conversation. When they reentered the drawing room, Harry had joined Draco, Hermione, Goyle, and a few of the other young people on the dance floor. He was waltzing (if it could be calling waltzing) with Luna, who seemed like she might mentally be on another planet, while Neville examined a crawling vine in the corner, crouching down to feel the soil.

"Excuse me," said Ginny. "And thanks again!" She hurried off to join her friends. Andromeda remained by the door, watching Kingsley. He and Severus were speaking. She couldn't hear of them, but judging by their passionless expressions, it wasn't exactly riveting conversation.

"I can hear them," said Narcissa, startling Andromeda. She leaned against the wall, waved her wand hand to close the door, and spoke in a deep voice when Kingsley's mouth was moving.

"What are they saying, then?"

"Kingsley is saying, 'Oh, Severus, how ever did you get so lucky to have found a perfect woman like Narcissa? Those beautiful eyes, those incredible legs... you are a fortunate man, my friend.'"

"'I'm aware of my good fortune,'" said Andromeda in a flat, even tone while pinching the bridge of her nose to sound like Snape. "'But it pales in comparison to yours. You have landed yourself the second best-looking Black sister, and since the first is dead - and I am not into necrophilia - I have to settle for the third. The third of three. In other words, the least attractive.'"

Kingsley was speaking again, so Narcissa took over. "'Andromeda is neither the best nor worst looking witch I've ever bedded, I'll grant you that, but despite being reasonably fit her personality leaves something to be desired. She is constantly-'"

Severus' mouth was moving, thus Andromeda cut off her sister. "'No, no, don't be a dunderhead, Minister. Andromeda is the most engaging, interesting bitch with whom I've ever had a conversation, save for my beloved dog, Duchess. I would have brought the dopey mutt as my date tonight, to be candid, but unfortunately, my wife has her tied up in the backyard.'"

"If only you'd tie your wife up once in awhile instead of the dog," said Narcissa wistfully. She quickly switched back to her Kingsley impression. "'But alas, she does not permit herself to be subjugated or slapped around as my Andromeda does, owing to her pesky abundance of self-esteem. Speaking of whi-'"

But again Narcissa was unable to finish her thought as Severus picked up the conversation.

"'You know what I love more than anything in the world save for my dog, Minister? Potions. I love to talk about potions. The more boring the potion, the better. I especially love explaining things about potions that no one needs or wants to know, using a soporific drone whilst seated across from my much-abused but ever-patient sister-in-law at dinner. Occasionally I break from potions talk to tell her grandson that four-letter words are inappropriate so the lad can lecture her later.'"

"'I can relate. As a politician, I am used to speaking only to hear myself speak. I frequently lord my -' _dammit, Severus, why do you keep interrupting?"_

"'I simply cannot control myself, Minister. Without a classroom to stand in front of, I am in forced-audience withdrawal. But if you'd like to stand here by the fireplace and ignore the string quartet with me, I would be happy to list for you all of the ingredients of the new Calming Elixer I am focused on developing as of late. Powdered moonstone. Root of asphodel. Eye of newt. Toe of dog. Stir clockwise no more than five and no less than five times.'"

"'You know who you use a Calming Elixer? My high-strung girlfriend, Andromeda. She is -' _bloody, fuck, Severus!"_ On account of the way her husband was dominating the conversation, she wasn't having much time for "Kingsley" to slip in jabs at Andromeda.

"'Don't be ridiculous, Minister,'" said Andromeda-as-Snape. "'Andromeda has assured my wife that the only tension relief she needs is you, you handsome, virile, powerful man, you. Now, back to the number one female in _my_ life: Duchess. Did I tell you she has recently learned to fetch my slippers in her teeth? I've been trying to train Narcissa to do that for two straight years without success. Nothing quite bewitches the mind and ensnares the senses like a docile-'"

"Bloody hell!" Ron Weasley joined them, making both women jump. They'd been so fixated on their little 'game' that hadn't realized he, George, Angelina, and Lavender were approaching. He raised his eyebrows, impressed, and addressed Andromeda. "Are you doing Snape?!"

"No, that would be my sister." deadpanned Andromeda. "I was merely trying my hand at an impression. Narcissa is the one doing him."

Narcissa pinched her wrist.

"That's not true," the blonde said quickly, striving to maintain a sense of decorum. "What do you think of the musicians?"

"Pardon me." Andromeda ignored the question. "I forgot, once you're married, 'doing' each other loses all appeal."

Ron, George, and Angelina cracked up at this, but Lavender appeared puzzled.

"I don't get it."

This made the three Weasleys laugh harder. Even Narcissa cracked a smile, but Andromeda managed to remain straight-faced.

"I'll explain it to you when you're older, dear," she assured Lavender. She added with sincerity, "You look lovely tonight, by the way."

"I glamoured my face," the girl whispered. "Thank you."

"We're going up to check on Freddy," said Angelina, turning to Narcissa. "Which room was it? Third on the left, second floor?"

"Second from left, third floor."

"I thought he was with your parents tonight?" Andromeda asked.

"He was supposed to be, but insisted upon coming to play with Teddy and the others," explained George. "So Gin left the baby with Mum, but we brought him with us. I hope the nanny didn't mind. She seemed like a nice girl when we passed him off." He glanced at his wife looking slightly ill at ease. "We told him to be good."

"Freddy can be such a handful," Angelina explained apologetically, but then she grinned at George. "No idea where he gets his naughty side. But I want to be sure he hasn't put your governess in a Full-Body Bind and taken charge of the other children, preparing them to mutiny."

"I hope the next one's just like him!" said George, beaming proudly at the thought of his son enacting a hostile takeover. Angelina chuckled and patted her belly. She was, Andromeda guesstimated, about five months along.

"Let's head up then."

"I'll join you!" Andromeda hoped Dorcas was doing alright. "I should check on Teddy anyway." (She was also hoping, since he hadn't seen her since he told her off the day before, that he might be civil to her in front of his friends.) "Would you mind telling Kingsley I'll be back shortly, Lavender, dear?"

"Me?" Lavender pointed to her chest. "You want _me_ to speak to the _Minister for Magic_?"

"Don't worry," said Andromeda. "He doesn't bite. Unless you request it."

Lavender's eyes went wide, she clapped her hands over her mouth, and then, just when Andromeda worried they might fall right out of her head, she dissolved into giggles.

"I guess she got that one," said Angelina. George smirked.

"Sure," said Ron. "We'll tell him." As he led her away, he added to Lavender, who could barely stand for laughing, "Maybe we've had enough champagne?"

George, Angelina, and Andromeda made their way to the third floor, second door on the left. They could hear shrieks and giggles from inside the room. George opened the door.

Dorcas was standing stooped over, holding Teddy's hand with her left hand and Hermione's sister Ophelia's hand with her right. Ophelia and Teddy were holding hands with Hermione's brother Orlando and with little Freddy, Hope was between them, and the group of six were moving in a circle, singing.

"Ring-a-ring o' roses, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!" Then they entire group fell to their bottoms. The children squealed and rolled around as Dorcas, spotting the adults by the door, hurried to her feet.

"Sorry." She bowed her head as if she'd been caught out in the Hogwarts halls after curfew. "We were playing. I don't know many songs or games, but Teddy learned that one at Ministry daycare, and..."

"Don't apologize!" said George. "Looks like they love it!"

"Are you behaving, Freddy?" asked Angelina, one hand resting on her expanding midsection. The little boy grinned up at her from the floor.

"Yes, Mummy!"

"They've all been very good!" Dorcas assured them. "They'll be changing into pajamas soon, and washing faces and brushing teeth, and then there are little beds set up for them to sleep in until you're ready to take them home, just as I told Mrs. Granger when she came up earlier. And everyone ate their dinners."

"You'll come home with me tonight, Teddy," said Andromeda, but even _she_ noticed it sounded uncertain, like a question. He shrugged one shoulder.

"Maybe."

"Alright then." She wasn't going to fight with him over it. He'd be asleep in an hour and she'd Floo home without waking him. Maybe she'd even place him in his own bed, since it wasn't as if he slept with Narcissa and Severus at their home; he had his own little bed there.

Angelina and George kissed Freddy goodnight. Andromeda waved awkwardly at Teddy, who ignored her.

"What was that about?" asked George in the hall, once they were far enough away not to risk being overheard.

"He's unhappy with me."

"Freddy gets cross with us sometimes, too," Angelina assured her comfortingly. "Last week he told me, 'Mummy, you are NOT my friend.' I was _deeply_ wounded. But they get over it."

Andromeda smiled gratefully. "You two go on ahead. I might go in and try again to say goodnight."

George and Angelina headed down the stairs without her, but she didn't return to the playroom. She needed a few moments to herself. She tried to sit on the top step, but her dress did not allow for easy movement, so she settled for leaning against the bannister instead, staring out a window over the dark grounds. She couldn't believe, sometimes, how different her life and Narcissa's had turned out. While they'd both had difficulties, she couldn't help feeling slight animosity over the opulence and privilege her little sister had enjoyed with Lucius Malfoy all these years, save for when the Dark Lord made their home his home. For some fifteen years, while Bellatrix was rotting away in a cell, chained to the wall and slowly going mad, and while Narcissa was throwing lavish parties, having sex with her husband in every room on a nearly nightly basis, and lording her wealth and class over others deemed lesser, Andromeda had struggled. She'd given her daughter candy and toast for dinner as a 'treat' when they ran out of nutritious options. She'd loved but resented her husband in the years during which he continued to emotionally punish her for having had an affair. She, on occasion, had sex (or oral sex) with other men behind his back not because she wanted to, but because they were broke, and she needed a promotion or to pay the rent or money for groceries. She did not regret walking out on the Black family and their twisted values and blood supremacy, but she did regret not having finished school, and the struggles that resulted from that decision.

She did not wish to see Dorcas have the same hard life she'd had. The girl started off so far behind the line, but surely there was hope for her. She was good with the children, and that didn't require much fundamental magical ability or education.

After more time had passed than she'd intended, she hurried down to the second floor landing. She was passing a dark alcove on her way to the next set of stairs when two hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the dark space near another window, out of sight of the stairs.

"Stupe-" she started, reaching for the wand tucked into the back of her dress. The 'assailant' stopped the curse with a kiss.

Her eyes closed. She recognized those lips. Kingsley. He was on her the way he'd been that first time, with a passionate desperation that thoroughly turned her on.

"Mmm." She kissed him back with fervor, her hands slipping up his chest and clasping behind his neck. When their lips - swollen and moistened - parted, he kissed just below her ear, and spoke in a husky voice.

"Because you did not return, I came looking for you. I could see you from the bottom of the stairs. You look delicious."

"Good enough to eat?" she asked suggestively, pressing her body flush against his. He groaned.

"Keeping my distance from you would be considerably easier if you were ugly." He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her again, sucking her lower lip briefly into his mouth.

"I thought you loved me for my winning personality? And now I find out it's my looks you're attracted to?"

"We should not go home together tonight." He kissed her again, one hand still on her cheek, the other siding around to the back of her head. Hers made their way down to his hips and around his waist. She grabbed his arse, thrusting him against her, and let out a little moan.

"Yes, we should. Tomorrow we can remember what our row was about. Tonight, let's just feel good."

"Healer Smelthwick won't like that." His mouth moved to her neck. He flicked his tongue over the hollow of her throat before placing several kisses across her chest.

"She doesn't have to know."

"We're not having sex tonight. We shouldn't."

"We'll get in bed, undress each other, and talk for hours. Isn't that what you wanted to do after Potter's engagement party?"

"If we go home together..." His hands were wandering. He grasped her breast and groaned, imagining her naked beneath him. It had been far too long since they'd last fully experienced each other. "We cannot. We should not."

"Follow me." She wrapped her small, freezing hand around his wrist and pulled him across the hall and down. She tapped a doorknob with her wand, making it open to them, and guided him inside. With a wave of the wand, the door closed and locked.

"Where are we?" It was pitch dark, much like that storeroom had been. Their eyes would adjust, but in the interim, she knew where she was headed.

"This is the library. Come. Sit." She pushed him into a wingback chair near the curio cabinet and tried to straddle him, but the dress was too tight to allow it. Instead, she sat on his thigh, her legs thrown over his lap. His hand resumed its exploration of her chest, drawing down the fabric in the front, while the other, around her waist, kept her from falling off his lap.

They snogged in this position for several minutes before he flicked his thumb over her exposed nipple, nuzzled her nose with his, groaned defeatedly, and insisted they stand.

"We must return to the party. It's already been too long."

"Not yet." She brushed her hand across his groin over his robe, which had an immediate impact. He let out a low growl as his cock stiffened at her touch. "Let me make you happy."

"You already make me happy."

"Sit down." Again she pushed him into the chair. This time, rather than sitting on him, she knelt before him.

"You don't have to," he said as she lifted his robe, running her fingertips up his inner thighs.

"I want to." She kissed his tip over the fabric of his pants. "Don't you want me to?"

"More than I can say," he confessed, as his hand threaded into the back of her hair, urging her forward. He hissed his "yes, please," as she took him in her hand, kissed his shaft, and ordered him to performing a silencing charm.

It didn't take long; he was overdue for release, and she was talented with her tongue, licking and sucking him like a lolly while her hands handled what her mouth couldn't take. It was a good thing he'd silenced the room, otherwise he was certain they'd have heard him calling her name all the way down in the drawing room underscored by the string quartet.

They used Evanesco to clean up and rearranged their clothing (her chest was hanging half out of her dress, and his robe was considerably rumpled). When they returned to the drawing room, it was to find that several couples had departed.

"Goyle has to work early, Harry and Ginny were missing the baby, Professor McGonagall was tired, and Lavender had a little too much to drink," Hermione explained when Andromeda asked why they'd departed. Neville and Luna were dancing, as were George and Angelina and Mrs. Granger and her beau, a Muggleborn wizard Draco had met through his volunteer work.

Draco was dancing with his mother. Hermione held up a hand, in which she was holding her shoes. "My feet are killing me. How do some women wear these all the time? Narcissa is never not in heels."

"You get used to them," said Andromeda, but the truth was, her arches, toes, and ankles hurt too. "Where's Severus?"

"Went to check on Hope. And, I suspect, he's going to Floo home quickly to look in on the dog, but don't Narcissa. She'll go off her trolly." Hermione glanced at her future mother-in-law, who had one palm pressed against Draco's and one hand on his shoulder. He had clearly been taught to dance - probably had lessons as a child, same as the Black sisters, as the ability to waltz or foxtrot was considered a "mark of good breeding."

"Excuse me just a moment," said Kingsley. "I need to find the loo."

"Fourth door on your right," said Hermione. He thanked her and stepped from the room.

"You..." Hermione bit her lip apprehensively and cleared her throat. "Forgive me, Andromeda, but your lipstick is... smeared. And there's... it's on... The Minister's collar is white, so I couldn't help noticing."

"We weren't doing anything," said Andromeda hurriedly, though she quickly conjured up a mirror to check her face. Sure enough. Smeared. She wiped it from her cheek with her thumb. "But thank you."

"I can't believe I'm getting married. This time next year, I'll be married. Marriage was never one of my dreams, but I love Draco, and I want him to know how much I love him, and I want everyone else to know how much we love each other... But my parents marriage? I always thought it was wonderful, and it turns out, they were only staying together until I came of age, and then they had the twins, and now they're divorced, and... and Draco thought his parents marriage was perfect, and... and I know it was good, but... but there were secrets and... and what if... We're good at dating. We're good together. But what if we're just not good at marriage?"

"A marriage is what you make of it," said Andromeda. She hugged the girl, remembering how she's said the same words to Nymphadora during a difficult time in her short marriage. It hurt her heart to think of her daughter never having these experiences. There had been no engagement party, no big wedding, no honeymoon. They'd married at home, in secret, because she was pregnant and they were in the middle of a war with an enemy that wanted them both dead. It didn't seem fair that Narcissa's child should have everything Andromeda's could not... but she tried to put it out of her head. She could dwell on it later, at home, maybe with a bottle in hand. Someday.

"A marriage is what you make of it," she reiterated. "And knowing the pair of you, I truly believe you can make it a magical thing."

Over the next hour, the rest of the guests said their goodbyes. Andromeda and Kingsley were last, staying to chat with Narcissa and Severus in the study even after Draco and Hermione had retired to the master bedroom. When the two couples went up to retrieve their respective children, Andromeda was relieved to find everything still going well. Dorcas sat between the two tiny transfigured toddlers beds, reading by wandlight, as the children slept peacefully.

Narcissa thanked her and paid her handsomely.

"This is too much!" insisted the girl in a whisper, gazing down at the galleons in her hand. "All I did was play with them and put them to bed! I didn't even have to cook, a house-elf brought food!"

"Five children for five hours, at a galleon per child per hour, seems fair to me." Narcissa closed the girl's hand over the gold. "What do your clients usually pay, Miss Kensington?"

"Less," answered Dorcas. Andromeda was glad Narcissa didn't ask her to expand upon the specifics of her 'clientele.' She had a feeling Cissy wouldn't be happy to realize this governess was the same girl Bellatrix literally plucked up off the streets and dropped at Hogwarts, only for her to end up selling sex again a few months later, the one who eventually landed herself in rehab. Judging by the slight lift of Severus' brow, though, Andromeda surmised he recognized the young woman.

Kingsley took Teddy in his arms and carried him to the fireplace. Andromeda tossed the powder in, and he whispered, "Andromeda Tonks' sitting room."

"I adore you," said Narcissa. She kissed Andromeda's cheek. "I didn't drink tonight. I wanted to, and I might have, but you didn't. I was watching you. And I thought, if she can abstain, I can too. I owe it to myself and to you and... and I'm proud of you, Meda."

"Don't go getting sentimental on me." Andromeda hugged her. "I love you too, even though you're an attention whore draped in diamonds, the very personification of overindulgence and excess. Are you planning the wedding too?"

"No, they won't let me." She pouted. "They want it to be a fun, less formal affair, so tonight was my compensation for not complaining too much." She turned toward the 'governess.' "Do you want to Floo home next, dear?"

Dorcas looked panicked.

"She isn't connected to the Floo network," said Andromeda. She took the girl by the hand. "Come along, I'll walk you to the apparition point."

"I'll do it," said Severus. "Safer that way. It's dark and you're wearing impractical shoes, Andromeda. Narcissa can Floo home with Hope."

Dorcas' eyes widened fearfully. Thanks to Legilimency, Andromeda knew why she was frightened; she assumed he offered to walk her out into the darkness with vile intentions, and she was afraid he would hurt her. Andromeda's heart went out to her, but she couldn't speak on it in front of her sister.

"Thank you, love, that's sweet of you." Narcissa took the sleeping little one from his arms and stepped into the fireplace. "Master bedroom, Snape's house."

Severus turned his attention to Dorcas. The only light in the room came from the tip of his wand, making him look quite foreboding. She shrunk back, bumping Andromeda, and blinked anxiously up at him. His face was blank, but there was an identifiable sadness in his eyes.

"I am sorry, Miss Kensington."

"I don't understand, sir." The poor mite was practically trembling. "Why are you sorry, sir?"

"As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I should have done a better job of looking after my pupils. I offered you no special consideration or assistance when you enrolled in school even though it can't have been easy to start your education in the middle of your fourth year, and when you did not return after the war ended, I regret that no one looked for you - no one from Hogwarts. Andromeda has relayed to me your... struggles... and I am sorry I neglected to enquire about your situation more than five years ago."

"Oh." She stared down at her feet. "It's alright. I was happier at Hogwarts than I've ever been anywhere, so even though it wasn't long, I..."

"You should go back."

"What?"

"What?" echoed Andromeda, as surprised as Dorcas.

"If you'd like, I could speak to Minerva. There must be a way of getting you an education. Private tutoring, perhaps, or you could assist Hagrid around the grounds or apprentice Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, and study in your off time. Surely, _something_ can be done."

"I'd... I'd like that," she said.

"That would be wonderful!" Andromeda almost wanted to hug Severus, but she knew neither of them would enjoy it, thus she held back. "Thank you, Severus."

"Do you _really_ need to apparate home?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "Or can you Floo?"

"I can Floo," admitted Dorcas, who just hadn't wanted to speak her destination aloud in front of Narcissa. She stepped to the fireplace. "Thank you, sir. Thank you, Andromeda." She threw the powder down. "Knockturn Alley brothel."

"That was good of you, Severus."

He shuffled, uncomfortable with the compliment. "You can Floo first, if you'd like."

"Thanks."

She spent that night, and the next, sleeping in the arms of the Minister. They did not have sex, but on Sunday, she started their session by declaring that they wanted it.

The Healer all but gave permission.

And then...

She couldn't.

She tried. They messed around. They snogged in the kitchen and touched each other on the couch, and they continued sharing a bed, but whenever it started to get too intimate, she stopped him, apologized, and hurried into a task or to take a shower or insisted she was just too tired tonight.

She wasn't sure why she was suddenly unable to fathom the thought of having sex with him. She loved him. They were... getting better. They were falling into a regular routine. They were sharing dinners with Teddy and taking turns reading him bedtime stories, playing with him, and taking him out, like a family. (Thanks in part to the Minister's frequent presence in the home, Teddy had forgiven Andromeda for the week before.) She started working with Teddy on writing his letters while Kingsley was at work, and she landed a second interview with the Wizarding Wireless Network, a good sign. She was even eating regularly again. By all accounts, it seemed things were looking up.

But she also reverted back to giving Kingsley reasons not to want her.

As he slipped off her shirt on Sunday night, she said, "I once injected it into the back of my hand because the veins in both arms were too bruised."

As he unbuttoned her jeans on Monday night, she said, "I had a sexual disease back at Hogwarts and I can't be sure who gave it to me."

As he rubbed her through the fabric of her knickers on Tuesday night, she said, "I was always my parents' least favorite daughter."

As he flicked his tongue over her pebbled nipple on Wednesday night, she said, "I needed the partial hysterectomy because I had adenomyosis."

As he kissed along her inner thigh on Thursday night, she said, "Bella and I used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to smoke Elven Herb."

As he positioned himself between her legs on Friday night, she said, "I used to leave early for my lunch breaks sometimes, then return late, and not mark the time so I still got paid for it."

And as he ghosted his fingers down her spine Saturday night, she said, "I got pregnant when Nymphadora was nine and I had an abortion and I never told Ted."

That last one threw him.

"Wait, you what?"

She burst into tears.

And he held her until she fell asleep.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry it ends on a sadder note, but I tried to infuse some humor in this chapter to keep from being too heavy all the time. I hope you all liked seeing a little more of Draco and Hermione's engagement party (I especially enjoyed writing Narcissa and Andromeda imagining what each other's wizards were saying. If anyone's curious, Severus and Kingsley were actually discussing the weather).

Thank you so much for reading and especially for reviewing!

 **Sassanech:** Thank you! Teddy and Kingsley are getting pretty close. :)

 **Elphaba8387:** Maybe, but can he really be _too_ harsh at this point? :)

 **emrldapplejuice:** I'm trying to figure out what to do with Teddy. He does need help, definitely. He's been through a lot! Thx! :)

 **somethingnew2016:** I originally had Dorcas' 'position' be discovered and there was a lot more drama, but then I just couldn't do that to her! Ron will, eventually, figure out why she looked familiar though, so that might cause a problem. Thanks! :)

 **PopularCats:** Glad you liked the flashback! :)

 **FrancineHibiscus:** Yeah, she's super broke. But now that she's getting better, she can, at least, use her joblessness to teach him what Hope's already been learning! Thanks! :)


	19. Part Two: Week 6

**PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER NINETEEN**

 **END OF WEEK SIX**

She didn't want to talk about it.

"It doesn't matter." She brushed her hair forward with her fingers, letting it curtain her face to avoid the eyes of her Healer and her... _whatever he was._ "It was over twenty years ago and I've hardly thought about it since. After Nymphadora, I made it clear to Ted I was done. I only wanted one child, he accepted that, and we moved on. Let's discuss something else."

"Very well." Adelaide waved her wand, setting her quill to scritching. "You were adamant this time last week that you wanted to have sex with Kingsley, but you've been unable to, is that right? Might we delve further into that?"

"I had an abortion because we couldn't afford a second child." As much as she wanted to avoid jumping into this conversation, she wanted to discuss the other issue even less. "Especially another child like Nymphadora. We couldn't handle a second one financially, emotionally... I couldn't handle another physically. A Metamorphmagus is much more work than the average wizarding child, and a wizarding child is, according to Ted, more work than a Muggle one, and _any_ child is more work than I'd realized prior to having one."

"You don't have to justify the decision to us," said Adelaide. She leaned forward to take her mug from the coffee table. Andromeda had made tea prior to the start of the session today, but she and Kingsley were ignoring theirs.

"Life with Nymphadora was... difficult," Andromeda continued carefully. "In public we had to worry constantly that she was going to change her hair color or the shape of her nose without even realizing she was doing it, which would require calling in Obliviators to perform Obliviation charms on witnesses, which always required a follow-up visit from an Auror. She had to be registered at six months old, and Ministry officials came twice a year to check up on her - and on us - until she went away from school and they no longer deemed her a danger to the Statute of Magical Secrecy. We had to pay for specific tutoring to help her control her abilities starting at age five, which was not inexpensive. Teddy should be doing the same, I'd looked into hiring someone right after his birthday before I went away, but I had no money, and... and then, a couple of weeks later..."

"You were afraid you'd have a second child like Nymphadora?" asked Kingsley, looking like he was trying to wrap his brain around this. "Specifically, that's why you didn't want a second one?"

"Specifically? I don't know. I was afraid of a lot of things. We couldn't afford to feed the child we had. That frightened me. I'd just been fired from my job at a Muggle dentist's office. I'd been answering phones, and one day, when Nymphadora was too sick to go to the sitter's but not so sick I needed to stay home, I brought her to work with me. This was shortly after her ninth birthday. She was clumsy, and feverish, and when she was on her way to the loo she tripped over her own feet and smacked into a small aquarium on a shelf. It did not fall down but _she_ did, and in a burst of accidental magic she made the fishtanks - _all of them_ \- explode. Glass and water and fish were everywhere. I had to Stupefy the dentist and three waiting patients until Obliviators could arrive to modify their memories, and an Auror showed up two days later to lecture us. He said another incident like that one - that was not our first incident - might result in losing custody of Nymphadora to a boarding facility in Spain where they take magically gifted but uncontrollable children."

"Does the Ministry still have such policies?" Healer Smelthwick turned to Kingsley with concern and a touch of horror.

"Not to my knowledge! If Teddy caused an episode somewhere in the presence of Muggles, yes, we would send in Obliviators, but the check-ins, the Auror threats..."

"Under Fudge in 1992, they stopped considering Metamorphs 'magical creatures.'" Andromeda cut in. "Nymphadora, with help from Dumbledore and Mad-Ey... excuse me, _Alastor_ Moody, had pushed for this. She wanted to become an Auror but magical creatures are not accepted into the training program. As far as I am aware, there have only been three Metamorphs born since she was, including Teddy, and they are recognized as witches or wizards - not creatures - under the law."

"I had no idea," said Kingsley. "I was new to the Auror office in 1992, having worked in International Magical Cooperation for ten years prior to applying. Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"I think we both know there are a great many things I've never told you." She said this with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Do you think Ted would have wanted the child?" asked Adelaide, setting down the tea and leaning on tented fingers as she so often did during sessions.

"Without question. Not only did he want a larger family, but..." Andromeda sideways glanced at Kingsley. "He was raised Catholic, and though he considered himself an atheist from his teenage years on, he held tight to certain religious... values. He would have divorced me for it." She snorted derisively. "Ironic, considering that's a sin in and of itself."

"So you just never told him?" Kingsley looked hurt, as if he was the one from whom she'd been keeping that secret. Of course, in a way, he was - but he had no right to know, whereas Ted, arguably, did.

"He would have considered it murder. He would have left and taken Nymphadora away. I admit that our marriage had its difficulties, but I never stopped loving him. I still love him." Her nose twitched like she might cry, but no tears came. "And I would have been broken without him, and especially without our daughter. So I had it done at a Muggle clinic one afternoon while Nymphadora was with her tutor. We couldn't afford the procedure, but the Healer - doctors, they call them - was willing to let me return later to work it off, if you understand my meaning."

Healer Smelthwick gasped. Nothing Andromeda had said had evoked such a visceral reaction in her before, but this she found particularly heinous as a medical professional. How dare the man take advantage of a desperate patient in that way! Doctors, like Healers, held to the code of "first, do no harm." She wanted to track the man down and magically relieve him of his bollocks.

Kingsley, meanwhile, immediately pushed his fingertips to his temples. She knew, even though his face was expressionless, that it must disgust him to know she'd done such a thing, just a it must disgust him to know what she'd done with Rowle, and that nurse, and the man who'd once promised her a promotion when she was young and broke... She swallowed back the intense urge to vomit up her self-loathing. How could she ever make them understand that giving men her body - or use of her mouth to please their bodies - meant nothing?

"That's horrifying, Andromeda," said Healer Smelthwick. "He ought to have had his medical license revoked for even suggesting it."

"It's fine," insisted Andromeda, seeing no need to confess that _she'd_ suggested it. "It was a long time ago, and Bella taught me from a young age that sex only matters if you want it to."

"Do you regret it? The abortion?" asked Kingsley, his brows pulled tight, a slight twitch in his cheek belying his calm, as his fingers continued putting pressure on his temples. Her stomach swirled. Did he believe the same as Ted? Would _this_ be the reason he finally left her, finally declared whatever they had was over? After all she'd done, would an abortion over twenty years ago be the last straw? She hated herself for having revealed anything. She should have just shut up and had sex and then they wouldn't be having this discussion now. Or ever.

"You don't have to regret it, Andromeda," Healer Smelthwick said quickly. "It's a medical procedure, and a choice, and no one should shame you for-"

"I'm not shaming her," Kingsley interjected. "I'm merely curious."

"I don't know. I try not to think about it." The truth was, most of the time she was certain she'd done the right thing. All through the rest of Nymphadora's childhood and into her years working as an Auror, she was certain she'd done the right thing. As their struggles and hardships paid off and they grew comfortable, both working, able to pay off their home and even go on holiday a couple of times, she was certain. But now, with Nymphadora gone...

"You try not to-"

"Do you know how old she would be, had I not done it?" asked Andromeda, directing her question toward Kingsley, whom she'd interrupted. "This was in 1983, January. If I hadn't done what I did, do you know how old she would be?"

"She's not Dorcas," he answered.

"Excuse me?" Andromeda dropped the pillow she'd been holding on her lap. She was wearing pajamas still, as she'd not fallen asleep until somewhere around four in the morning and slept until a few minutes before the Healer's arrival. (Kingsley had been kind enough to get up with Teddy, dress him, and make breakfast.)

"Dorcas will be twenty soon, won't she?" asked Kingsley. "She was born in 1983? I noticed you asked how old 'she' would be, 'she' being your aborted baby, but you have no reason to believe that baby would have been a girl, do you?"

"I..." Her skin went hot. Not only in her face, but everywhere. It was as if she was having a hot flash, but she hadn't had one of those in years. "I was only a month along. I don't know what it would have been."

"But you said 'she.' I think you're thinking of Dorcas again."

"Someone ought to think of Dorcas," Andromeda bristled. "Her own mother surely didn't."

"Thank you for sharing this with us," said Healer Smelthwick. "I appreciate your openness on what is clearly a difficult personal subject."

"Yes, well." Andromeda combed the hair in front of her face again. "I don't know if it makes me a better person or a worse one to admit I didn't regret what I'd done until after my daughter was dead. I don't know whether that means I was selfish then - selfish not to have wanted another child - or selfish later, to have wanted one only after she was dead, but..." Andromeda picked up the pillow and hugged it to her chest. "But if I'm being completely honest with the both of you and with myself, as much as I wish I still had Nymphadora, if I could go back today with a Time Turner to give my younger self advice, I'd say 'have the abortion.' And I wouldn't feel guilty about it."

"For what it's worth, I don't think that makes you better or worse, nor do I think you're selfish, and no one ought to make you feel guilty for having done it." Adelaide leaned across the aisle between the couch and chair to take Andromeda's hand. "I think you're human, and I appreciate your honesty."

That afternoon, she and Kingsley were just clearing the table after tea and biscuits (in place of lunch) when Harry and Ron returned with Teddy between them.

"How was the Quidditch practice?" asked Kingsley, lifting the boy for a hug as Meow-Meow circled his feet.

"Wicked!" Teddy was positively beaming. His eyes were green like Harry's, his hair was his favorite shade of bubblegum pink, and his nose morphed - probably unintentionally - to match the shape of Kingsley's as he spoke. "Gwenog Jones is the best beater EVER! And I getted this!" Teddy leaned back in Kingsley's arms to show off the Holyhead Harpies logo on the front of his new shirt. Then, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an action figure: a dark-skinned woman in a shirt that matched his, carrying a beater's bat on one shoulder. "This, too! Look, Nana! Look, Kingsley! I want to be like Gwenog Jones!"

"Doesn't want to be like me," muttered Ron. Harry nudged him.

"Don't be too much like Gwenog Jones," said Kingsley. "She's as fiery off the pitch as she is on!" He handed the boy to Andromeda, who immediately began cleaning his face with a damp cloth despite his squirming.

"Aw, lay off, Minister," said Harry, grinning. "She hasn't been held in Auror custody for rioting after a ref's call in years!"

"The last time she was, I happened to be there with a new lady-friend to watch the match and she hit me from behind with a Bum Boil hex. Completely derailed our date and I couldn't sit right for two weeks!"

Harry, Ron, and Andromeda laughed. Teddy did too, though he didn't get it.

"Take off your trainers and leave them by the door," Andromeda instructed upon setting him down. "I don't want mud tracked all over my floors. I just cleaned the house."

"You _always_ just cleaned the house," replied Teddy with a teenager-worthy eye-roll, but he kicked off his shoes and carried them toward the entrance. Harry asked Kingsley if he could speak with him alone for a moment - Auror business - so Andromeda offered Teddy and Ron a snack of cinnamon biscuits and pumpkin juice. Ron plopped down at the table. Teddy crawled into the chair beside him. Andromeda set out the biscuit tin, Accioed from the cabinets two glasses, and went to the fridge for pumpkin juice.

"It's been driving me bonkers all week trying to think on where I've seen that governess girl before." Ron bit off the end of a biscuit.

"Ronald." Andromeda sat across from him, pushing the two glasses of pumpkin juice toward their respective recipients. "Think back. Late summer, maybe early fall, 1998. You and Hermione Granger were still seeing each other, but you were seeing someone else, too... Maybe someone you wanted to impress..."

"I... oh!" Ron's face went as bright as his hair. "I wasn't... I didn't... I just... Everyone else was doing... you know!" He looked toward Teddy with panic in his eyes, but the boy was concentrating on his biscuits and his Gwenog Jones action figure. "I didn't realize that was _her!"_

"And here I thought one never forgets their first." Andromeda poured herself pumpkin juice too, then sent the jug back to the fridge with a wave of her wand.

"I... I didn't want... I didn't... Hermione wouldn't..." He was sputtering, eyes darting around the room, as if Aurors were hidden awaiting his confession, ready to hop out and arrest him.

"She told me you were sweet and nervous. She said you wanted to impress a girl and you were highly sensitive about the continuing existence of your virginity."

Ron was now closely resembling a tomato in complexion. If his cheeks got any hotter, he might catch on fire.

"That's true enough," he confessed.

"Was it only the one time?"

He nodded, the half-eaten biscuit in his hand forgotten. "I was sort of seeing a witch I met through Quidditch, but I hadn't broken it off with Hermione yet. We weren't doing anything, me and this witch, but if we did, I wanted to, you know, know what to do. And Hermione didn't want to do anything. Ginny used to do more snogging in public than we did in private! Which was, you know... embarrassing too."

"So you asked a fifteen-year-old prost-"

"No!" Ron cut her off. "She was nineteen. She told me. She'd been working there for two years. I was eighteen. She was a year older than I was."

"She lied. She was fifteen. She's recently turned twenty, which would have made her fifteen then."

"Oh." Now he paled, losing all color. "That's... young."

"You didn't know. And you're not much older."

"But now she's..." Ron glanced at Teddy, who was still completely fixated on his Jones figurine. "She's gone from a you-know-what to a governess?"

"I can read what you're thinking," said Andromeda coolly. "I don't care if she shagged you six ways from Sunday for a sickle, she's not a slag. She's a sweet girl with a difficult past, and I'll thank you not to mention what you know of her to anyone."

"Of course not!" As if he wanted the world to know he was so afraid of being bad in bed with the witch he was cheating on Hermione with that he lost his virginity to a fifteen year old prostitute. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. There's nothing wrong with her, she did what she had to in order to support herself, but I don't wish to see her reputation ruined, especially as she's not yet had a chance to prove herself." Andromeda pushed the tin of biscuits closer to him. "Have another. They're good."

Harry and Kingsley returned then. Harry and Ron, a biscuit in each hand, said goodbye to Teddy and headed for home.

Several nights later, Andromeda and Kingsley were curled up in bed together sometime shortly before midnight, when they heard a blood-curdling scream.

Andromeda leapt up, throwing her crossword puzzle to the floor, and Kingsley did the same, dropping his book. They apparated directly into Teddy's room, only to find the poor child tangled in his blankets, sobbing and shouting.

"Mroww!" said Meow-Meow, who had been asleep on the end of his bed. She looked from the couple of the boy as if telling them to 'do something.'

"Teddy!" Andromeda quickly untangled him and took him in her arms. "What's wrong, love?"

"Had a bad dream!" he wailed, sobbing into her shoulder.

She sat on his tiny toddler bed (he was rapidly outgrowing it) and cradled him like a baby. Kingsley transfigured the small plastic chairs in front of the art easel into an adult-sized one and sat close to them.

"Tell Nana about your bad dream," she said softly.

He launched into a complicated, convoluted tale of werewolves and wizards, monsters and murderers, all chasing him until he fell off a cliff into the sea and couldn't swim to shore. She talked him through each element, reminding him that he was in no real danger from dreams. She also assured him that werewolves could be nice (though Kingsley could tell this pained her) and promised they could start swimming lessons if he was worried about falling into the sea. She brushed back his soft brown hair and stroked his tear-stained cheeks and rocked him, and vowed to keep him safe, always. Kingsley watched them with a muted fondness. Sometimes he couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have a child, though he'd never seen fatherhood as part of his future.

"Nana?" Teddy wiped his nose on the cotton sleeve of his Sesame Street pajamas. "Mummy was there, too. She was on the edge of the water and she was saying, 'Come here, Teddy!' but I could not come here and then she disappeared!"

"Mummy was in your dream?"

He nodded. His tears had subsided, but he continued to sniffle, and his eyes were puffy.

"Yes, it was Mummy. I know 'cause Mummy has pink hair."

"And what else? What did she look like?"

"I don't know what else," answered Teddy miserably. "I only know she has pink hair. Right?" He looked to Kingsley for confirmation. "Her hair was pink sometimes?"

"Sometimes," said Kingsley, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "She looked a bit like you, but taller, and she could morph herself at least fifteen different noses."

Teddy wiped his ruddy cheeks with the back of his hand and tried to smile back.

"Oh, Teddy, love." Andromeda kissed his forehead. "We'll... we'll look at some photographs tomorrow, alright?" There were precious few photographs in her home. It hurt her too much to look at Ted and Nymphadora's faces on a daily basis. She had one of the two of them on her bedside table in a white frame beside a silver framed one of Teddy at around six months of age, and she had one on the fireplace mantle of herself, Ted, and Nymphadora when the girl was around six, opposite a picture of Teddy at two, but the rest were locked away in a box under her bed. "We can go through an album and I'll tell you all about when she was your age. Would you like that?"

He nodded.

"I can tell you about her too, Teddy," offered Kingsley. "I can tell you what she was like as an Auror."

"A hero Auror?"

"That's right." He reached over to ruffle the boy's hair. "A hero Auror. She helped keep Harry Potter safe. She had a very important job in the Order of the Phoenix. I was honored to call her a friend."

"Best friend?" asked Teddy. "Harry says Ron is his best friend. Best mate, he says."

"She was a very good friend," said Kingsley.

"We'll talk about her in the morning, alright, love?" Andromeda gave him a squeeze and tried to guide him back into his bed, but he clung to her.

"I sleep with you, Nana?" He slid his first two fingers into his mouth and began to suck, blinking up at her with watery eyes. She sighed. If there was one thing they didn't need, it was another regression. She glanced at Kingsley.

"I could sleep on the couch," he offered.

"No. It's... no." She stood, Teddy still in her arms, clinging to her with his legs around her waist and his arms around her neck. Holding him up with one hand, she reached the other toward the Minister. "It's fine. Come to bed."

This was quite the step and both knew it, though neither said so. For such a long time she hadn't let him into her bed at all, using Teddy as the reason it was inappropriate, even when the boy wasn't home. Parents let their children sleep curled up between them sometimes, but a grandmother and her - _whatever he was?_ \- just didn't seem right. But she was tired and he was tired and Teddy needed the comfort and security of falling asleep beside her, and the couch was uncomfortable, and besides, their entire relationship had changed so much over the last year, so who was to say what was appropriate or inappropriate?

The pair were already wearing pajamas, so they slipped under the covers and doused the light with Kingsley's "nox."

Kingsley slept on the left, as usual, while Andromeda settled in the middle with Teddy to her right. She rolled onto her side, keeping a protective arm around him, and neither adult spoke except to say "goodnight" until his even breathing told them he was asleep. Then Kingsley shifted closer until he was spooning Andromeda, placed a hand on her abdomen, and kissed the back of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of French vanilla shampoo.

"Woman?" he murmured. A pleasant shiver went down her spine as his breath tickled her ear.

She smiled. "Yes, Minister?"

"I do not believe I tell you frequently enough how in love with you I am."

"I love you, too," she whispered.

And, soon enough, the pair succumbed to sleep.

They awoke early. Neither was sure who'd opened their eyes first, but it was to find Teddy sprawled on his belly like a starfish between them, taking up most of the large bed, with the kitten curled up in the open space between his legs, snoozing.

"How can one little boy require so much space?" whispered Kingsley. Andromeda suppressed a chuckle.

"Children have their own special magic."

"Yes." He smiled down at the boy, whose hair had gone natural during the night. It was mouse-brown and wavy, tumbling almost to his shoulders. Kingsley pulled himself into a seated position against the headboard and diverted his gaze back to Andromeda, who was lying on her left side, facing him. "After they died, did you consider... did you know straight away you'd raise him?"

"Harry offered, actually. As his godfather, he thought he owed it to Remus to..." She propped her face up on her left hand and rubbed Teddy's back with her right. "Had he and Ginny been older, already married, established, I might have taken him up on it, but the boy was still seventeen. Still a boy. And he'd survived such difficult times; I thought he ought to celebrate the end of the war by going out and acting his age, not saddled down by the responsibility of a baby."

"Had he been older, though-"

"I'm not a good mother to him, Kingsley. And though I appreciate what Adelaide said about me caring for him as a newborn and toddler, and though I've genuinely tried to do my best, I don't know how to be a good mother. I didn't have a good mother, and with Nymphadora my primary goal was to do better than Druella Black - not a high bar. I did what I could and my daughter and I were very close, I know you know that I love her more than life and have since I first set eyes on her, but at my best I'm only decent and at my worst I'm unfit. And I didn't want more, as I told you both on Sunday. One was enough, one was perfect. I was happy to become a grandmother. I was looking forward to being a grandmother. It's a different role. I only got to enjoy it for a few short weeks."

He leaned down to brush her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips linger on her jawline. "As I've said countless times, I do not want children and never have, but I love Teddy, Andromeda. If we stay together, we can raise him together, and if we don't, I don't want to disappear from his life. I'll do my best to be what he needs."

"You're too good for me."

"Not at all."

"Are you..." She flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling, away from his touch and avoiding his eye. "Does it bother you that I had an abortion? Be honest, please."

"It bothers me that you still feel the need to confess things to me to halt intimate moments. I thought we'd mostly grown beyond that-"

"I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. But I wish you'd feel open enough to tell me these things at less inopportune times - and I also wish you'd let go of the assumption that I'm going to respond to each confession by changing my mind about wanting you."

"You want me knowing I had an abortion?"

"Andromeda." He sighed, twisted to the side, and gently guided her into a seated position to mirror his. "I have secrets too. One in particular that I have not divulged as I was specifically asked not to, but in the interest of honesty and fairness, I feel you should know you are not the first woman I've loved who's had an abortion."

"Sounds like another woman's secret, not yours."

"It was a secret we shared. She wanted children. I did not. She had the abortion because I made it clear the only support I'd provide for the child would be financial, and it contributed to the demise of our relationship. I am reasonably certain she regrets it, for which I feel guilty, but - like you - if I could go back with a Time Turner, I wouldn't advise my younger self to do anything differently."

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing." Andromeda looked him over as if seeing him for the first time. "Which ex-girlfriend was that?"

He let out a long, slow, pained exhale, staring not at his lover, but at the child between them.

"Hestia."

"You got _Hestia_ pregnant?!" Andromeda clapped her hands over her mouth and kept her eyes trained on Teddy until she was sure her exclamation hadn't awoken him. She dropped her voice back to just above a whisper. "You told me you broke it off because she wanted children, but I never suspected-"

"I feel guilty because I believe she would have been content to keep the child. I think she thought I would change my mind. And perhaps I could have been swayed years ago, when I was younger, before the war... before you."

"Before me? What did _I_ have to do with it?"

"By the time she told me she was expecting, I was already considering breaking off our relationship, as I'd started to..." He cleared his throat. His eyes met hers. "Started to notice you. One day I told her we had to talk. I was going to suggest a break. She agreed we needed to talk. She told me she was pregnant. I told her the only support I'd be able to provide the child would be financial. I reminded her that I'd been very clear about my position, not only when we started dating, but when we made the decision to go from relying on condoms and the potion combined to just the latter. I never wavered, never gave her any indication I would feel differently in the future."

"Do you reckon she conceived on purpose?"

"I thought so at the time, and I was bitter, but later we learned several other couples... George and Angelina Weasley, among them... had become unexpectedly with child thanks to the diminishing mental capacity and abilities of Terrence Spencer, who owned the apothecary before Severus."

"Oh, yes." Andromeda drew up her knees, set her elbows on them, and rested her chin on her fists. "Narcissa told me about that."

"I do not know whether Hestia's truly forgiven me; we do not speak about it. But when I hired her to be my assistant, she assured me she was content with her fiance, looking forward to their future together, and did not begrudge me anything. I never would have selected her for the position had I suspected she still had romantic feelings for me."

"Does she? Or did she fall into bed with you over the summer for the same reasons you did with her? Loneliness, alcohol, and-"

"No." He didn't let her finish the sentence. "She has made it known since that she would like to reconcile. Our working relationship is now strained. I would have told you, but you have enough stress, and I did not wish to add to it."

Teddy snorted in his sleep, rolled over as far as he could before Kingsley's body stopped him from going farther, and kicked the cat, who hopped off the end of the bed with a pissed off "Mrroww" that she, for some reason, directed toward Andromeda instead of Teddy.

"I hate that cat," whispered Andromeda.

Kingsley chuckled.

They sat in silence for several minutes, lost in their own thoughts, listening to Teddy softly snore.

It bothered Andromeda to know that Hestia was interested in reconciling and that the two were spending literally every weekday together, all day, and there was nothing she could do about it. The witch had Kingsley for five years. Her time with him was over, and she needed to accept that. Perhaps Andromeda should owl her a reminder.

"When you broke it off with Hestia, you had already noticed me?"

He smiled fondly at the memory. "After you confronted me in my office before Christmas four years ago, I could not stop thinking about you. It got worse a couple of months later when we saw each other at the Quidditch match, you remember?"

She had taken Teddy to that match in late February. It had been cold. They were all bundled up in coats and scarves because warming charms were not enough, but it was to see Ron's Chudley Canons play Ginny's Holyhead Harpies, and when Harry gave Teddy two tickets as an early second birthday present, the toddler insisted he wanted to go. Harry had been there too, of course, to cheer on his girlfriend and best mate, though he swore he was remaining neutral. George, pregnant Angelina, and the rest of the Weasley clan had been in attendance too. She, with Teddy in her lap, had sat between Harry and Molly.

"We saw each other for only a second!"

"We _spoke_ for only a second," corrected Kingsley, "But I _saw you_ all afternoon. I could see you from my seat. I paid more attention to you than I did to the Keepers."

"Because I'm the real keeper?" she asked, a teasing smile playing at her lips. He coughed back a booming laugh, afraid to wake the boy.

"You wore a dark gray wool coat that went to your mid-thighs, with buttons all the way down and a tie at the waist. Burgundy jeans, same shade as the dress you wore the other night, and fur-lined boots with a two-inch heel. Your hair was down and wild and long, and you wore your glasses, no makeup, and your scarf was Harpies aquamarine, so I assumed that's the team you were rooting for. Your gloves were leather, white, and when you stood to cheer during the introduction of players, you bounced Teddy on your hip."

Andromeda blinked at him. "You remember all that? From my glasses to my scarf to my shoes?"

"I committed your image to memory."

She couldn't help being both touched and turned on by this, by knowing the Minister for Magic - _the bloody Minister for Magic_ \- had a crush on her for such a long time before they were able to act on it. He'd told her before, in that storeroom, that he'd been attracted to her for over a year, but he'd never mentioned having watched her in the Quidditch stands.

"I was becoming infatuated, I'm afraid."

"Apparently. Were you there with Hestia?"

"Yes. We sat together in the dignitaries box."

"Was she pregnant then?"

"Yes. She..." He cleared his throat again and looked toward the window. "Sun's coming up."

"Did you think of me?" She dropped her voice even lower, to a husky whisper. "Did you think of me sometimes when you were with her? When you were intimate with her?"

"If I say yes, I'm a terrible person."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Are you a terrible person?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Starting that evening, after the match." He chortled but not in a way that indicated he thought it was funny. "I thought of nothing but you that evening, even when I was with her. The next morning, before work, I told her we needed to talk that night."

Andromeda couldn't fight the cheshire cat grin forming across her face. Though she knew 'witch code' required sympathy for the woman in this situation, she wanted to owl her sister right now to gloat about how much he'd desired her then. She'd had no idea.

"And that's when she told you, is it? About the baby?"

"Yes."

"And you told her it was over?"

"It wasn't a good time." He pushed his palms against his forehead, eyes closed. "Not then. I told her I would provide financially and she sobbed. How could I continue _that_ conversation by revealing I'd been steadily falling for another? I am not a cruel man. Not intentionally, at any rate."

"How could you be falling for me?" She had a teasing, flirtatious glint in her eye. "You knew nothing about me."

"I knew quite a lot about you. After you barged into my office to demand Nymphadora's pension for Teddy, I'd been asking about you. Quietly. Subtly."

"Why, Minister, I'm flattered. Why didn't you ask me out as soon as your slag assistant left the abortion clinic?"

"She did not go to a clinic, and she is not a slag." He shot her a sharp look. "She went to a hospital in France, where they would be discrete. I went with her. And we remained together for another three miserable months, as I felt to leave her then would be cruel. She moved out in June, by which time I learned you were still happily seeing that Muggleborn wizard with a grandson Teddy's age. I was told you were happy and I did not wish to disturb that."

"Until you fucked me while I was on the clock."

"Yes. Well." He took her hand and kissed the back of it. "The more I saw of you, the more I wanted to see. Draco's orphan gala in April... April 2000, you remember?"

"I remember."

"Hestia stayed home. I told everyone she was ill, but she was still recuperating from the procedure... emotionally, I think, though she said it was physical."

"You and I had a lovely little conversation at that gala."

"Yes, we did."

"I had no idea you were mentally undressing me during it. You should have told me. I would have taken you to the library right then."

He laughed out loud and Teddy stirred. The pair froze, as if the slightest movement would be what wakes him. They eventually relaxed, and for awhile, again, there was silence.

Both were thinking about that chat at the gala.

 _"Could I sit beside you for a few minutes, Minister?" asked Andromeda. She had a glass of champagne in one hand and a small china plate in the other, on which she were four bacon wrapped scallops and two massive cocktail shrimp._

 _"Please do," said Kingsley, standing up to pull out her chair. He was impeccably dressed, in powder blue robes with a matching cap, all with stark white threaded designs. She looked beautiful, in a simple but form-fitting floor-length black dress with cut out shoulders, long sleeves and a high slit, accented by silver jewelry. He noticed she was not wearing her wedding ring._

 _"I'm sorry to intrude. I wouldn't have asked, but my feet are killing me in these shoes... I don't know how my sister manages."_

 _"No intrusion! I welcome the company."_

 _"Oh." Her eyes glittered as the corners of her mouth turned up, just enough for him to notice. "You're welcome, then."_

 _"How is the situation with Teddy and the money?" he asked. "Has he received it in its entirety?"_

 _"Yes, thank you, sir. I've had it all placed into a small vault in St. Mungo's for when he's older." She picked up a shrimp. With it halfway to her mouth she jolted, as if someone had scolded her. "I'm sorry, would you like a shrimp? Or a scallop? I should have offered. My mother would be appalled by my manners, were she not busy rotting in the ground right now." She held out the plate._

 _"I wouldn't mind a scallop, thank you." He selected one, then took an exaggerated gander around the ornately decorated Malfoy Manor drawing room. "Draco outdid himself. I think he's genuinely passionate about lessening the plight of orphans, finding them homes and ensuring they live happy lives. Between the two of us, at first I assumed his charity was an attempt to better his personal reputation and restore his family name."_

 _"I don't know what he was like before the war, but he's a decent young man now, and I believe that can be partially attributed to Miss Granger. That Ministry Mentorship Program seems to have worked wonders for many of those fortunate enough to have been able to benefit from it. I read that it was your idea. Sir. And a brilliant one it was." Andromeda was suddenly speaking with a certain formality she'd lacked in his office and in their brief hello at the Quidditch match. He wished she wouldn't. As Minister, he was used to people addressing him differently on account of his position, as if he wasn't a 'regular' bloke like the rest of them, and he strongly disliked it. He didn't want to experience that with her, too. He tried to change the subject to something she might enjoy talking about. But what? Teddy? Music? Books?_

 _The weather?_

 _"Been unseasonably warm as of late, hasn't it?" he asked. She nodded._

 _"Yes, quite warm. Looks like it may rain soon, though."_

 _"Ah, rain, yes. I agree. The clouds have gone gray, so it's only a matter of time."_

 _"Right. Tonight, perhaps. Or tomorrow. Perhaps if it does, it shall seem less... less warm."_ _She glanced around the room. He could not tell whether she was bored or uncomfortable, but either way,_ _that wouldn't do._

 _He tried another subject._

 _"You work at St. Mungo's?" he asked, as if he didn't know the answer. "I believe I've seen you there once or twice, behind a desk. Is it an enjoyable position?" He popped the scallop into his mouth._

 _She reached for the second shrimp. When she spoke, she moved it around by the tail, as if using it to punctuate her sentences._

 _"If you can call it working. I sit for seven straight hours directing patients, occasionally calling for particular Healers as-needed, and doing the crossword."_

 _She bit the shrimp in half. He had the sudden mental image of himself biting off what was left, right from her hand, perhaps even brushing over her knuckles with his lips, and tried to suppress it despite the unwelcome tug in his groin; this would not be the ideal time nor place for_ that _sort of thinking._

 _"Is it all that dull, then? Why not apply elsewhere?"_

 _She flipped her hair over her shoulder and smirked. "I believe your answer lies in the form of a crossword prompt: Four letter word for 'does the bare minimum in order to collect a check; Synonymous with Andromeda.' Can you work it out? I've been wracking my brain."_

 _He laughed_ _and she seemed to visibly relax at the response, which made him smile._

 _"I assume you're looking for 'lazy,' but I doubt that's accurate." Smiling broadly, he reached for another scallop from the plate in front of her. "Do you mind?"_

 _"Help yourself."_

 _"I shall." He did not eat it yet, though. It had only been an excuse to lean closer to her. "I've never been much good at crossword puzzles, I'm afraid. Are there tricks to it, or does one simply need an impressive and varied body of knowledge?"_

 _"An impressive body is always a plus, Minister." She sipped her champagne, not taking her eyes off his._

 _He froze with the scallop half to his lips. Was the innuendo there intentional, or...?_

 _"Andromeda, there you are!" A broad-chested, bearded man approached them. "I've been looking for you. You went off in search of appetizers and never returned."_

 _"You seemed busy." She stood, sipped her champagne again, and set the nearly empty glass down on the table. "Minister, this is Barnaby Weeks. He works in the field of Magical Reconstruction and Plotting - a misleading name, as they mostly focus on making things appear deconstructed and unplottable."_

 _"Ah, yes." Kingsley stood and put out his hand, smiling jovially, though inside he felt the strong pain of disappointment. Was she seeing this man? "Nice to make your acquaintance. I am as well-versed in your field as a man without training in it can be, which, admittedly, isn't much. I worked in International Magical Cooperation, many years ago, and we relied on Magical Reconstruction and Plotting every time Quidditch World Cup planning time rolls around."_

 _"It is an honor to meet you, sir," said Barnaby Weeks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to steal Andromeda for a spell." He turned to her. "I want you to meet one of my coworkers. She and her husband are considering orphan adoption. Their children are grown now. Shall we?" He held out his arm and she took it, but as they walked away she glanced back. Her eyes met Kingsley's and she smiled, and he smiled back. When they were all the way across the room, having joined a group by the windows, he retook his seat, put the second scallop down, and picked up her champagne glass. It had the stain of her lipstick along the rim. He almost -_ almost _\- wanted to down the last sip, putting his lips over where hers had been. Thinking better of it, he set the glass down and went to find Draco. It was only polite to seek out and thank the host... and he desperately needed the distraction._

"Kingsley?"

"Yes?"

"I know you regret the way we were first together, but I don't. It was, quite frankly, the most exciting sexual experience of my life. And... and while I don't know when we'll... we'll be together again, as I don't know why... why I can't bring myself to do it... I do love you, and I want to be with you. Emotionally, physically, sexually - I want to be with you in every way."

"Even after knowing how I hurt Hestia? Knowing that I would have been willing to turn my back on my own child simply because I didn't want one?"

"You've always told me you're not as perfect as I think you are. Now I know it's true." She squeezed his hand. "He'll probably sleep for at least another hour. Do you want to join me in the shower?"

"You know I do."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Happy Valentine's Day! As those who read Stages of Grief may remember, this was the date I chose for Nymphadora's birthday in 1973, which would make her 45 years old this year - only five years younger than Andromeda in this fic, and older than Kingsley.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, and following! Not a ton of drama in this one, but I like coming up with little flashbacks to before they were together. And now we see further evidence that Kingsley has his flaws too - pining after her while living (and sleeping) with another woman. Specifically, thank you to my new reviewer, **kalilje,** who reviewed every chapter of Stages of Grief and has now reviewed the first thirteen of Andromeda! I love seeing each reaction. Also a huge thanks to my lovely and awesome regular reviewers who responded to C18, **emrldapplejuice, sassanech, somethingnew2016, Kat,** and **PopularCats,** and to a reviewer I hadn't seen in awhile until recently, **Elphaba8387.** Your responses keep me going!

 **-AL**


	20. Part Two: Week 7

**PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

 **END OF WEEK SEVEN**

It was a cool, dreary Wednesday morning in early September. She was seated at the breakfast table with pen in hand (much easier to use than a quill) with every intention of doing the crossword while eating her toast and drinking her coffee. Teddy sat beside her, but not too closely beside, scarfing down eggs. They were in no mood for conversation.

Neither had slept much the night before, as both were fighting frequent nightmares. Poor Kingsley had been awoken at least nine times either by her tossing and turning and whimpers or by the boy's wails and shrieks. He'd asked that morning if she minded if he slept at his own home for a couple of nights, as the exhaustion was taking its toll on him at work and he needed to be on his toes; there was a lot going on at the Ministry as of late, apparently.

She told him she didn't mind.

And then she flipped to page two of the Prophet, only to see a black and white moving image of Kingsley and Hestia taken in May at the Remembrance Ceremony at Hogwarts, during which they memorialized all those lost in the Final Battle and during the war. He must have called her up to speak. She was stepping behind the lectern as he stepped aside, and for just the briefest moment his hand guided her, placed upon her lower back.

Andromeda narrowed her eyes at the photograph. She glared so hard at their faces, at his hand reaching toward her, at the smile she shot him, she wouldn't have been surprised if the paper had caught fire from the intensity of it.

This shot was taken before he fell into bed with her four times. Was he flirting with her then? Were they interested in each other? Andromeda had been in the hospital at that time. Or had she been committed to the facility by the second of May? Those first several days were a blur. She vaguely recalled him visiting. She vaguely recalled requesting he kill himself with the knife he left in her back. But was she at St. Mungo's then? Or had she already been transferred?

Fuck that self-satisfied little swot, with her appropriately subdued smile and her minus-seventeen years. What did some 33-year-old _child_ want with Kingsley, anyway? Couldn't the overworked witch find a man her own age? He was over forty, for Salazar's sake. A full decade her senior. And she was not nearly pretty enough for him.

Andromeda would be willing to bet _Hestia_ had never gone down on him in a library during a formal party or fucked him in a public storeroom while on the clock or let him finger her on his desk at the Ministry.

Unless... she had.

Unless... they did.

That bastard. That bitch.

"Nana, why you look mad?" Teddy was frowning, his eyebrows pulled tight, staring at her with deep concern. She forced her face to relax into a smile.

"Reading the news, love. Nothing for you to worry about. Eat your eggs."

"I eated my eggs." He held up his plate to show her.

"Good job, then. Now eat your toast and beans and fruit."

"Okay." He scooped some of his beans with his fork and dropped them on his toast. When he tried to eat the toast, several beans fell off onto his lap, joining the orange juice that had already dripped off his chin. No matter. He needed a bath anyway. He'd refused to get into the tub the night before.

She turned her attention to the article accompanying the picture, unable to stop herself wondering whether Kingsley, while away from her for a couple of nights, would find himself back in bed with his "still has feelings" for him ex.

HESTIA JONES TO LEAD NEW INITIATIVE IN MINISTRY AUROR OFFICE

What?

 _Hestia Jones, 34_ \- oh, she must have had a birthday - _has been announced Head of a newly created department at the Ministry for Magic: the Department of the Curtailing of Deviant Extremism; Sympathizer and Supremacist Deprogramming and Rehabilitation._

 _Said Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt at a press conference Tuesday morning, "Five years post-war, a number of witches and wizards convicted of lesser war crimes, those who sided with [You-Know-Who], are up for possible release. The Ministry has had success with our Mentorship programs meant to deprogram those indoctrinated into a system and mindset of supremacy and hate, but we simply do not have the resources to ensure the success of those who will be paroled over the next ten years. Unlike those released shortly after the war, these witches and wizards are more likely to have been outer-circle Death Eaters, Snatchers, complacent former Ministry officials, and those who supported [You-Know-Who] during both wars. Many of these people were more deeply ingrained in his viewpoints, indoctrinated from a young age, and/or imprisoned in Azkaban when Dementors were still guarding it, which means special measures will have to be taken to ensure there are no relapses. We have, therefore, created a new department dedicated to doing precisely what our Mentorship program has done, through which we will extensively train Mentors, keep closer tabs on Mentees, and expand the foundation that has been lain since June, 1998."_

 _Shacklebolt went on to explain that Jones, who has been his assistant at the Ministry since she left the Auror Department and Mentorship Program in early 2002, is the perfect person to head up this new endeavor. "Her tenacity, dedication, and commitment to fighting back against a blood-supremacy mindset are unmatched, and her professionalism coexists with a deep compassion for those with whom she works, making her the ideal candidate for the position. While I am disappointed to lose her as an assistant - her work has been invaluable - we at the Ministry are looking forward to this new Department. We encourage interested Mentor applicants to apply for the Deprogramming Certification Beginner's Course directly at the Ministry, and we look forward to watching our wizarding world continue in the direction of progress, equality, and justice."_

 _While the Ministry Mentorship Program has had its detractors over the last five years, there have been a number of success stories, including those of Draco Malfoy, Thomas Selwyn, Gregory Goyle Jr., Althea Carrow, and Stan Shunpike. See page 9 for details._

 _*He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's formal moniker redacted by order of the Editor._

Andromeda didn't know whether to fume or smirk. Either way, she could read between the lines.

While the new department was indeed a good idea, she knew he'd moved the witch because she was being anything _but_ professional as of late. On the contrary, she'd made it increasingly clear she thought the two should reconcile romantically. What better way to get her off his back than to transfer her to an entirely new department, make her the head of it, and tout her good qualities in announcing her appointment to the position?

Slytherins were not the only masters of manipulation.

Andromeda drew an X over Hestia's face with her pen, then, childishly, added 'angry eyebrows' and a curly mustache before flipping to find the crossword.

"Nana? I'm done my toast and beans." He held up his plate to show her.

"Eat your fruit, then."

"I don't waaaaant fruit," he whined.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Did I ask if you wanted fruit?" She awaited his head shake. "I didn't think so. Eat your fruit."

"Aww, Nana." He groaned and sighed and rolled his eyes, but he popped a berry into his mouth.

After breakfast had been cleaned up, she set him up at the coffee table in the sitting room with a workbook Kingsley purchased. He said he saw it and thought it might not be a bad idea, but she was certain the truth was that he'd sought it out after she admitted it upset her whenever Narcissa pointed out how much better Hope was doing academically despite being two-and-a-half years younger.

"Hope can spell fourteen three letter words now," Narcissa had bragged a few days prior. "Hope, spell 'cat.'"

"Cat. C-A-T. Cat."

"Excellent! Spell dog."

"Dog. D-O-G. Dog." Hope grinned up at her mummy, her long lashes batting. "What next, Mummy?"

"Spell owl."

"Owl. O-W-L. Owl."

"Well done, Hope! So smart. Spell-"

"I get it," snapped Andromeda. "She spells shit."

"Shit!" said Teddy, fighting giggles. "S-H-I-T. Shit!"

"Well done, Teddy. So smart!" said Andromeda, copying both her sister's words and intonation.

Narcissa folded her arms slowly over her chest and shot her sister a glacial look.

"We are careful not to use such words in front of Hope, Meda. So, if you wouldn't mind, watch your language when in her presence. You can raise your little one to have the mouth of a barman, but I'd rather my daughter show the world we cared enough to educate her."

Andromeda scoffed at this. "When did _you_ start talking like the bloody queen?"

"I have always presented myself with dignity and decorum, but the war was difficult and during the aftermath, I lost sight of-"

"Save that shit, Cissy."

"Shit," giggled Teddy under his breath. Hope sent him the same look Narcissa had shot at his nana.

Andromeda stifled a chuckle. Narcissa pursed her lips into a thin red line and jutted up her chin snobbishly.

"Severus doesn't want her repeating those sorts of words, and honestly, neither do I. Can't you respect that by curbing your expletives?"

"Very well." Andromeda gave an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "I'll try to suppress the urge to use all of my favorite four-letter words when in the presence of the little princess."

"That's all I ask. Thank you."

After Narcissa and Hope departed, Andromeda asked Teddy to spell cat, dog, and owl. Cat and dog he could do. Owl, he could not. She then tried a number of other words she reckoned kids his age out to know: the, fun, my, at, bug, was, be, toy, egg, sit...

He managed "at."

"How do you know how to spell 'shit' if you can't spell 'sit'?" she asked, aghast. "It's one letter away from being the same word!"

"Auntie Cissy spells s-h-i-t when she doesn't want me to know she's saying shit!"

Andromeda snorted up at this and told him not to worry about spelling for now, but later she admitted to Kingsley that the whole interaction bothered her.

"He can't read, he can't write, he can't spell, he can barely add and he can't subtract. His abilities include changing his hair color, saying four-letter words, and yelling, 'Bad call!' at Quidditch refs. Oh, and when he feeds the cat, he gets most of the food in the bowl."

The following evening, Kingsley came home with the workbook.

On Wednesday, as he had on Monday and Tuesday, Teddy set to work while Andromeda finished the crossword and scoured the classifieds. The cat curled up in the sitting room with them, licking herself and occasionally glancing disdainfully in Andromeda's direction.

"Nana?"

"Yes, love?"

"I need help." He held up the book.

She was helping him through a phonics lesson when an owl tapped on the kitchen window.

"Be right back." She went into the kitchen, opened the window, and took the letter from the bird. She gave it a treat from the canister on the counter and sent it on its merry way.

"From the radio station..." She sat in the chair she'd occupied at breakfast and opened the envelope with trembling hands. _Please, please, please be a job offer._ She couldn't live off Kingsley forever and her vault and pocket money were now completely gone.

 _Dear Mrs. Andromeda Tonks,_

 _We regret to inform you..._

Fuck.

She skimmed the rest. It was perfectly professional and they promised to keep her CV on file in case another position opened up in teh near future, but they had gone with another candidate.

Great.

She threw it in the air and whispered, "Incendio," setting it on fire. When the ashes hit the table, she used a nonverbal "Evanesco" to vanish them. That was her only hope for a job. No one else had even been willing to interview her. She was going to end up fucking for money. She ought to tell Kingsley now that his best hope for future happiness would be with Hestia instead of a whore.

"That's all you'll ever be, Andromeda," she muttered.

That afternoon, when Narcissa came to call, once the children were distracted by Teddy's paint set, Andromeda finally lowered herself to doing something she never thought she would.

Beg her sister for money.

"I only need a small loan and I promise to pay you back with interest," she said, hating herself for even asking. "I applied for three jobs this morning alone, and I'll keep right on applying, and..."

"How much do you need?" Narcissa pulled from her hip a small silk sack. She loosened the drawstring and dumped galleons on the coffee table. "Take it. Keep it. Don't pay me back."

"I _will_ pay you back," Andromeda insisted, the muscle in her jaw twitching. "I am not interested in your charity."

"Consider it a gift for every birthday and Christmas I missed while we were estranged for a quarter century. Five galleons per birthday and ten for Christmas, times twenty-six years..."

"I'll pay you back." Andromeda Accioed over her handbag, found her money pouch, and placed the gold inside. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Narcissa ran her fingertip along the rim of her mug. She had recently gotten a manicure, as had Hope. The two had their nails painted in a glossy clear with a white tip. Matching, like the color of their dresses (pale pink). Narcissa chewed her lip and stared into the tea as if trying to read the leaves, but neither Black sister believed in that nonsense.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Cissy, I can sense something is bothering you. What's wrong?"

Narcissa sighed and set down her mug. "Meda, the dreams have started again. The ones about Lucius. Inappropriate dreams, almost every night. Severus is worried about me and I don't know what to tell him. 'Don't worry, darling. My subconscious can't stop thinking about getting a good hard s-h-a-g from my first husband, that's all. Love you!'"

"Not sure that's how I'd word it," said Andromeda. She waved her wand to clean up the drops of pink paint Teddy had just dripped on the coffee table while bringing his brush back to his paper. "But there's something to be said for brevity."

"I can't tell him that! He asked last night if I was keeping something from him and I didn't know what to say so I said... something stupid."

"What could be stupider than 'my subconscious can't stop thinking about a good hard shag fro-"

"I said I want another baby."

Andromeda barked out a laugh, which she quickly tried to swallow. "Another baby? Cissy, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you're too bloody old."

"I'm not! I... I saw a mediwitch this morning. I've started having hot flashes, and my cycle is... irregular... but it hasn't stopped, so it's still possible. And there was ways to help things along, the mediwitch said. Potions Severus could brew, exercises we could try..."

"Do you, then?"

"Do I what?"

"Want another baby!"

Teddy glanced up, losing interest in his paint. _Baby?_

"I don't know," said Narcissa miserably. "I might. Hope is perfection, and Draco was too, and if I could have a third like them-"

"You can't. Couples can only have two perfect children." Andromeda held her wand between her fingers like a cigarette and sat back against the couch cushions, eyeballing her sister. "Like Mother and Father. They had you, they had Bellatrix, and they had me. Had they not have had you, I might have been a perfect daughter. But once you add a third, you fuck up that middle one." She jerked her head toward Hope. "Her greatest lift accomplishment will be learning to spell owl."

"You're a terrible person!" scolded Narcissa.

"I know," agreed Andromeda. "I'm a terrible person because I was the middle child. Before you came along, I was a wonderful person."

"Mummy! Auntie And-omeda said a ina-pope-iate word! The F-one!" said Hope, wearing a scolding expression that was every bit the spitting image of her father.

"Can she spell OBNOXIOUS?" asked Andromeda.

"Obnoxious," said Teddy. "H-O-P-E. Obnoxious."

"Teddy!" exclaimed Narcissa.

"Sorry," said Andromeda, not at all sorry (and, frankly, trying not to laugh). "It's my fault, Cissy. We're looking to raise him snarky instead of smart, and it seems to be working."

"ANDROMEDA!" Now Narcissa wore the scolding expression. "That is indicative of irresponsible parenting."

"Irresponsible parenting?" Andromeda gasped, a hand melodramatically placed upon her chest. "No! What would such a thing even _look_ like? Never in all of my years of alcoholism and drug addiction and depression and infidelity and neglect have I ever before been accused of anything as heinous as irrespons-"

"Andromeda, stop it." Narcissa was clearly not amused. "Hope, darling, focus on your art, please. And Teddy, be nice to your cousin."

"So." Andromeda, still hiding a smirk, sat back against the couch cushions and sipped her tea. "Back to the topic at hand. A baby?"

"We're going to work on it," Narcissa sighed. "I'm not against the possibility of another child, and no matter what happens, the bonus is that the mediwitch suggested it may help to start spicing things up in the..." She glanced at the children. "In the bedroom."

"You're having spices in the bedroom?" asked Teddy, not taking his eyes off the flamingo on his paper.

"Yes," said Andromeda. "Cayenne, cumin, paprika..."

"Nana does not allow food in the bedrooms. Not even spicy foods."

"I want spicy foods!" Hope leapt her her feet, tossing her paintbrush across the room, leaving a streak of green dots along the wall behind her. "Mummy, I want butter chicken!"

"Butter chicken's not spicy!" Teddy leapt to his feet too, squaring off.

"Yes, it is! You don't know!"

"I know!"

"You don't know anything!" Hope put her hands on her hips and jutted up her little chin, looking like her mother in miniature.

"I know it's not spicy!" He put his hands on his hips too, the same way she had.

"Is, too! Butter chicken is the _most_ spicy!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!" Teddy shoved Hope, who landed hard on her bottom.

"Mummy!" Hope wailed, holding up her arms. Narcissa rushed to her, lifting her up to balance on her hip.

"Teddy, you apologize this instant!" snapped Narcissa.

"NO!" He knocked over the water glass they'd been using to wash their brushes, soaking Hope's picture. This made her cry louder.

"Teddy Lupin!" Narcissa stroked Hope's back comfortingly.

"I'm not sayin' sorry because I'm not sorry!" Now he picked up Hope's dripping picture and tore it in half.

"Andromeda! Do something!"

"What?" asked Andromeda, glancing at them over the top of her mug as if she hadn't noticed his behavior.

"What? What do you think, _what?_ Get off your arse and do some parenting!"

Andromeda cocked her head curiously to the side. "Isn't 'arse' an inappropriate word?"

"You are an impossible woman!" Narcissa knelt down, set Hope beside her, and took Teddy by the upper arm. "Young man, this behavior is unacceptable. You owe Hope an apology, and then you shall go to your bedroom, sit in your chair, and think about how mean you've been."

"SHE DOESN'T KNOW BUTTER CHICKEN."

"IT'S SPIIIIIICY!" Hope sobbed into her hands.

"You want another child?" asked Andromeda. "Take Teddy home for a few days. You'll feel like you have several more children."

"NO!" Teddy climbed over the coffee table and onto the couch. He wrapped his arms around Andromeda's neck and held on tight. "I STAY WITH NANA. I HATE HOPE!"

"MUMMMMYYYYYY!"

"Andromeda, I swear to Salazar, if you don't do something with that boy-"

"Apologize to Hope, please, Teddy." Andromeda kissed his cheek. "You know what you did was not nice, and you've made her cry." She removed him from her lap and stood him in front of the couch, facing his great-aunt and cousin. "Go on."

"I'm sorry, Hope," he mumbled. "I'm sorry for pushing you and ruining your picture. I'll never do it again."

"I wanna goooo hooooommmee!" wailed Hope. Narcissa lifted her again and headed toward the door. Trying to Floo with a hysterical toddler would not end well, and since it was such a short walk...

"We'll be discussing this tomorrow," said Narcissa.

"I look forward to it," said Andromeda.

Once they'd gone, Andromeda sat Teddy at the table and positioned herself across from him with a plate of chocolate biscuits between them, one he was not yet permitted to touch, as if at a contract negotiation meeting.

"You've been doing this a lot lately, Teddy," she said. She flicked her wand, nonverbally Accioing over the milk, which she made pour itself into his glass. "Tantrums, overreacting, hitting and pushing. Why did you pick a fight with Hope over the butter chicken?"

"I didn't!" He reached for the biscuit plate. She pulled it closer to her, just beyond his reach.

"Didn't you?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression darkening.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"She's littler than me."

"Yes."

"And smarter. Auntie Cissy and Uncle Severus think she's smarter and you think she's smarter too. How come I'm not smart?"

"Oh, my little bug, you _are_ smart!"

"You said I'm snarky, not smart. I don't even know what snarky is."

"Snarky is... snarky is its own sort of smart." She moved to the chair beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. His hair was natural right now, falling over his ears in light waves. She kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry I said that. I was not serious. It bothers me, too, when Narcissa... when Auntie acts as if you're not as smart as Hope because you haven't learned the same things. It's not your fault you can't spell owl and dog and all that. I haven't taught you. It's my fault, and that's why Kingsley bought you the workbooks, so you can learn."

"Was my mummy smart?" He half crawled from his chair into Andromeda's lap. She helped him the rest of the way and positioned the biscuits right in front of him.

"Your mummy was smart in some subjects and not good at all in others. She had to work very hard to become an Auror because she struggled with stealth and tracking, and her potions work was pretty terrible, and she needed extra help with math when she was not much older than you are. She had to work extra hard to be good at those things."

"Can we work on my workbooks some more?"

"Of course." She moved him back to his own chair. "You eat, I'll go get the one you were working on this morning."

Two afternoons later, Friday, Andromeda received a letter from an unfamiliar owl, which filled her with inexplicable trepidation. With slightly trembling fingers, she opened the envelope, and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was from Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, letting her know that Dorcas had been invited to assist Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing in exchange for an education at the school. Minutes later, a second owl arrived.

 _Dear Andromeda,_

 _I am going back to Hogwarts! Profeser Mcgonagal said I can help Madam Pomfree! I will get privat lessons from Profeser Flitwick in Charms and Profeser Clearwater in Transfigurashun and Profeser Chang in Defens Against the Dark Arts and Profeser Greengrass in Potins and I will lurn how to do Healer training too so I can be a nurse or mediwitch after a few years maybe I can work at St Mungos or the facility! Profeser Mcgonagal was the most wonderful in the hole world! I even had a new wand thats not a secondhand one but my own that piked me at Ollivanders! This is the happyest I have felt since when your sister broght me to Hogwarts at Christmas 1997 I am so happy. Maybe we can have tea soon and then I have to save money and pack so I can get ready to go. I will move to the castle during Christmas holiday when the students are gone so I can setle in she said. Thank you!_

 _With love and gratutue,_

 _Dorcas_

Finally! thought Andromeda. Some good news. And then...

"Teddy! Let's go over those spelling words again!"

On Saturday night, Kingsley slept over. They messed around a bit, but stopped short of shagging - not because they wanted to, but because Teddy interrupted no less than seven times. Twice by knocking on the door, three times by crying out for his nana from the hall, once by falling off the toilet and crying, and once more by knocking a box of biscuits off the kitchen counter long after he should have been asleep.

"I'm exhausted," admitted Kingsley the next morning while they waited for Harry to arrive. He was taking Teddy to Ginny's Holyhead Harpies practice for the day while the couple had their therapy session and enjoyed a lunch out sans child (though Andromeda couldn't help thinking a long nap might be better than a nice meal).

Finally, Harry arrived, placed the excited boy on his shoulders, and hurried out the door. They were taking the Knight Bus from a nearby alley to the practice pitch.

"I don't know how you do it, woman," said Kingsley.

"I do it because I have to," she said. "And don't call me woman."

Bleary eyed, Kingsley made his way to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge.

"You have eggs," he said, holding out the carton.

"Yes."

"Could you fry them?"

"I probably could." She took the carton and placed it on the table. "Could you call me by my name instead of calling me woman?"

"I probably could."

"Good." She turned to get a pan from those hanging behind the stove.

"But I probably won't. Woman."

"What did you say?"

"I said I probably could, but I probably won't... woman."

There was a playful glean in his dark eyes. She cocked one eyebrow.

"I've ordered you repeatedly not to call me woman."

"I don't take orders from you." He leaned down to scratch the head of the cat, passing by en route to her bowl. "I'm the Minister for Magic, remember? I make orders, I don't take them." He suppressed the urge to smirk as she suppressed the urge to hit him in the head with the frying pan in her hand. She held it against her shoulder like a beater's bat.

"In this house, Minister Shacklebolt, _I_ make the rules, and rule number one is that you'll refer to me only by my proper name, save for during sex, when you may call me one of six approved terms of endearment, to be listed by me before the end of today and signed by you by bedtime." She turned back to the stove, lighting one of the burners.

"I do not accept your terms. Now..." He sat in one of the kitchen chair and put his feet up on another, his hands behind his head all-too-casually, a smirk forming across his lips. "I believe you were about to fry eggs for me. Get on with it, then. Woman."

She slammed the pan down on the stove and drew her wand instead, turning to face him.

"Hand to Merlin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, call me woman _one more time_..."

"Woman."

"That is it!" She shot a stinging hex his way, which he very narrowly dodged, though he felt off the chairs in doing so, landing hard on his knees. (And terrifying Meow-Meow, who tore off toward the stairs.)

Kingsley rolled away just in time to avoid the Rictumsempra Andromeda sent next, and scrambled into the sitting room. She switched off the burner and followed, finding him cowering behind the couch. He then went invisible thanks to an impressive disillusionment charm, but she knew where he was - a combination of her Legilimency skills and his choked-back laughter led her right to him.

That, and a well-timed Aquamenti. The water bounced off his body, momentarily illuminating him. He tried to escape over the coffee table, but she tackled him and his form came back into focus.

"Call me woman, Kingsley. Do it. I dare you." She was straddling his body, sitting low on his chest, with her wand against his throat. "It'll be the last thing you do."

"You're threatening me?" He put on a haughty expression, but the smirk was not completely hidden. "You can't do that. I'm the Minister for Magic! Don't you remember what happened the last time you threatened me, when you and your sister sent me that heart-shaped cherry pie with Bellatrix's knife stabbed through the center?"

"Which would you prefer?" She leaned in close, letting her hair tickle his face and neck, letting her breath tickle his earlobe. "Would you rather the boils I hit you with cover your face for a week, or your arse?"

"It's up to you. As my girlfriend, it is your obligation to kiss my injuries and make them feel better. Would you rather spend the next week kissing my face, or my ar-"

Her lips covered his. He groaned into the kiss, but too quickly, she pulled back, sitting up and staring down at him, her wand still positioned at the center of his throat.

"It would not be wise to continue calling me woman, or witch, or anything of that nature. You shall henceforth use only my name-"

"Yes, Mrs. Tonks."

"My first name, save for during sex, when you may ca-"

He moved like a panther, fast, without warning. Her wand was flung across the room and now she was the one on her back, her wrists pinned above her head.

"You were saying?" he asked innocently, smiling serenely.

"Fuck you." The words dripped vitriol, but it was clear from the sheen in her eye this was mere foreplay for her, and she loved it. "Fuck you, Minister."

"Yes, thank you, I'd enjoy that. Would you like to do it here, or shall I apparate us upstairs?"

She responded by lifting her lips to his, and it wasn't long into their little snog session that he loosened his grip on her wrists, precisely as she'd known he would.

"I love besting you in battle," he murmured against her lips just before his tongue met hers. He grinded his lower body against hers and she gasped, guiding his hand to her chest.

"Yes," she whispered. "Touch me. Touch me there..."

"I've missed you," he groaned. "I've missed _this_ with you."

Once his right hand was busy with her breast and the other hand was on her arse, she knew she had him exactly where she wanted him.

"Accio wand!" she called. The second it touched her fingertips, before he could even begin to react, she added, "Petrificus Totalus!"

He went stiff as a board (stiffer than he'd already been) and became dead weight on top of her. She wriggled out from under him, chuckling.

"Oh dear, Minister Shacklebolt. It seems I again have the upper hand. Let's get you more comfortable, shall we?" She levitated him to the couch, where she set him on his back, with a pillow under his head. "That's nice, isn't it? Now, how should I teach you a lesson? Were you a student and I a professor, I'd take twenty points for your earlier cheek, another twenty for failing to obey the rules, and ten more for trying to fuck me into submission - though that particular tactic I quite enjoy."

She crawled on top of him as she'd been on the floor, but this time she straddled his waist. "Already hard for me? Or is that the spell?" She thrust once against his waist and knew if he were able to moan, he'd be doing so. "Having you at my mercy like this is such fun. Much more fun than making you breakfast. Though I don't want you to worry - after we're through working up an appetite, I'll feed you. First, you can eat _me,_ and then, when you're done - or, more accurately, when _I_ am - you can eat eggs and toast. That seems fair, doesn't it?"

She leaned down to press her lips gently to the corner of his mouth as she thrust again against his erection.

"The only question is, how long should I torture you before putting you out of your misery, so to speak? Poor dear, sweet Minister for Magic, overestimating his abilities while underestimating mine. You really thought disarming me guaranteed you a win? You thought you'd bested me in battle?" One of her hands was on her wand, pointing it at his chest. The other was on his side. She bounced lightly over him, a simulation of what she knew he wanted, and chuckled again. "Bested in battle?"

He managed to blink. He was fighting the effects of the Petrificus Totalus, but not enough to break the spell.

"Oh, Kingsley, darling. Sweet, decent man. Never, ever, _ever_ underestimate... a _woman."_

With that, he groaned, and it took only a second to realize she'd performed a nonverbal Finite Incantatem.

"You are wicked," he said, but he grabbed her and drew her down to him, crushing their lips together.

Two orally induced orgasms, one short shower, and three fried eggs later, they were cleaning up the kitchen when Adelaide Smelthwick arrived for the Sunday session.

"How have you been since I saw you last?" she asked, reaching for her parchment and quill.

"Kingsley's agreed to stop calling me woman," answered Andromeda. "Plus, Dorcas is going back to school, and Teddy learned to spell 'shit.' So all in all, not a bad week."

* * *

 **A/N:**

There's some darkness and drama to come, so I wanted a fluffier chapter (as fluffy as I could manage for a fic like this, anyway). I have to admit, in case it's not obvious, I love when couples play/fight by using magic against each other. It tickles me... like Rictumsempra (ha. pun).

Anyway, my edits for my middle grade novel are due to my editor on the first or March, so wish me luck that I haven't ruined my entire manuscript! I may not be able to update for another week or so, though, because the next chapter isn't done yet and I need to focus on my book for the next several days (and beyond, if there's something more they need me to fix, which there probably will be).

Thanks for your patience, and in the interim, if you're interested, I posted a sad T-rated Hermione one-shot called Mudblood and the start of a Hermione/Draco, Hermione/Lucius, Lucius/Narcissa fic called Someone Like You. Next chapter of Just One Night will be up by Saturday. Thanks for reading, and thanks especially to Chapter 19's reviewers: **PopularCats, Banglabou, emrldapplejuice, kalilje, FrancineHibiscus, sassanech,** and **somethingnew2016.**

 **-AL**


	21. Part Two: Week 8

**A/N:**

The formatting for this (looonnnngggg) chapter is a little different. Each moment during Andromeda's Saturday session with Adelaide is discussed, then flashed back to. I hope it's not too confusing/jarring!

Also, I know I said I wouldn't update until after my edits are done, but I needed the mental break from my real work, so I jumped back into this about 4 hours ago and... this is what happened. So here's 21!

Thanks for reading! And thanks to Chapter 20 reviewers: **sassanech, somethingnew2016, PopularCats, kalilje, FrancineHibiscus,** and **Harry Hobbit** (haven't 'seen' you in forever! /excitedly waves hello/). I appreciate all of your comments; they keep me going! :)

 **-AL**

 **PS:** please forgive typos.

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

 **END OF WEEK EIGHT**

"I'm proud of you for not drinking," said Healer Smelthwick, both hands on her mug of tea while the quill and parchment took notes independently. They were seated in the kitchen for a change. Only the two of them, as Kingsley was asleep and Teddy away with his godfather for the long weekend.

"You shouldn't be proud of me," said Andromeda. "I'm a worse person sober than I am half-inebriated. When I drink, I do the world a favor. If I drink enough to take myself out of it-"

"I don't think you're a horrible person," interrupted the Healer gently. She reached out to take Andromeda's hand. "You had a difficult week, one that could set anyone back, and though you came close to falling off the trolley, you maintained your sobriety. That's something to be proud of."

"I told a pregnant woman she ought to throw herself off the Hogwarts astronomy tower, then I slapped the face of a five-year-old, I still can't force myself to fuck my lover, and I made my only sister cry."

"I didn't say it was a _wonderful_ week, Andromeda." Adelaide sat back against her chair, placing her hand back on the steaming mug of tea. "I said I'm proud of you for not drinking. Especially considering Kingsley's current... state."

"I brought him up some coffee and a scone about an hour ago, along with a headache potion Severus supplied." She nibbled the edge of the scone. She hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before. Neither had he, unless he was awake and doing so now.

"How is he?"

"Despondent." Andromeda placed her scone on the plate between them, as she had no appetite. "He wants to die too. We could go to our graves together like Romeo and Juliet. You know, the play? A little potion, a quick prick of the knife, an eloquent preceding speech or two... that would be rather romantic, wouldn't it?"

"I am not familiar with Romeo and Juliet, but no, I do not think suicide is at all romantic, and it bothers me when you speak that way." Healer Smelthwick's expression hardened. She put down her mug. She was all business now. "Should I have you returned to the facility? Should the Minister be checked in as well? Should I speak to someone about the dangers of returning Teddy to your care? How worried should I be?"

"Fear not, dear Healer, I have no intentions of offing myself at this time." Andromeda said this with an eye roll, as if stating she was not planning to redecorate the sitting room and thinking the mere suggestion silly.

"Then please, I implore you, do not say things like that. As a Mental Health Healer, I am trained to consider-"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" Andromeda retrieved the scone, tore it in half, and dropped both pieces on the table in front of her. "As you said, it wasn't a wonderful week. And I can't imagine how we're going to... to fix things."

"Let's start with the least of your problems. You made your sister cry."

"And now she's not speaking to me."

"But you were not being cruel; you were being realistic. She didn't want to hear what you had to say, but she needed to. You did not hurt her unnecessarily. If you go to her and explain your intentions, make it clear that you said what you did because you love her, surely she'll forgive you. Especially once she's had time to internalize and reflect."

Andromeda sighed.

"Yeah," she said as she Vanished the mangled scone from atop her clean table. "Maybe."

FIVE DAYS PRIOR

"Nana? I sleep with you?"

Teddy had already been returned to his own bed three times, and both Andromeda and Kingsley were running short on patience. He was trying to read through some important documents for a huge meeting the next morning and she was trying to finish the morning's crossword, which had fallen by the wayside when the child needed a lot of help with his math workbook.

"Teddy! Why are you up again?" Andromeda glanced at the clock on her bedside table. "It's nearly ten."

"Five plus five is ten." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. "Kingsley, I sleep with you?"

"Sorry," said Kingsley, not sounding sorry. "We already told you, not tonight."

"Whhyyy?" He stomped his feet. He looked particularly adorable tonight, in long green and blue striped pajamas with the feet sewn in. His natural hair was tussled from tossing and turning on his pillow, and when Kingsley said 'sorry,' his little nose started twitching like a bunny's. "Whyyy I not sleep with youuuu?"

"Because you're a big boy," answered Andromeda. "Back to bed." She got up (again) and lifted him, balancing him on her hip. "Say goodnight to Kingsley."

But Teddy wasn't ready to say goodnight.

"Please, I sleep with you?"

"Not tonight," said Kingsley. "Goodnight, Teddy."

Andromeda carried him back to his room, ignoring his whimpers of protest. She tucked him back into bed, kissed his forehead, and even consented to reading one more story, though she did so without the animated voices that made bedtime story time one of Teddy's favorite times. Instead, she tried to keep her voice even and soothing, hoping for the same soporific quality of Snape's - that man could read the children "Once upon a time, there lived a princess" and they'd both be asleep before hearing a single word about her wicked stepmother.

It seemed to work. By the time the Gruffalo showed up, Teddy's breathing was deep and regular and his eyes were closed. She tiptoed from the room, closing the door softly, and padded across to her own bedroom.

Kingsley was waiting.

"I cannot read another word of that rubbish," he said, indicating the pile now on the floor next to the bed. "It was put together by Percy Weasley, the most pleonastic, redundant person I've ever-"

"Isn't it redundant to say he's both pleonastic and redundant?" she teased. She closed her bedroom door, tapped it with her wand to lock it, and removed her dressing gown.

"You're wearing too much," he said, looking over his girlfriend in her warm, floor-length pink and white cotton nightgown. "You look like the grandmother in Teddy's story about the wolf who says the girl has big eyes."

"Little Red Riding Hood. And that's because I am a grandmother. Once one becomes a grandmother, there are certain requirements, certain rules to which one must abide, and wearing unattractive bedclothes is top of the list."

He stood and smiled cagily. He, too, was dressed for bed, but in a pair of blue silk pajama bottoms, no shirt. "I'd prefer you wear _no_ bedclothes. 'The better to eat you with, my dear.'"

She laughed and swatted at his chest, but allowed herself to be swept into his arms.

Moments later, they were on the bed, whispering terms of endearment and snogging but mercifully still dressed, when Teddy reentered the room.

Kingsley was on top of her, she had one leg bent up and the other between his, and they were both relatively certain this would be the night their dry spell ended.

Neither heard him open the locked door.

Neither saw him standing beside the bed.

Neither knew he was there until he spoke.

"Beautiful," moaned Kingsley, kissing Andromeda's neck after brushing aside her hair. He had one hand on the back of her neck, the other on her thigh. She had one of hers on the small of his bare back, and the other snaking up his chest.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Baby, I love you too," he murmured into her hair, having given up calling her woman. "I love you."

"Baby?" asked Teddy. "What baby? Am I getting a brother?"

Not even during the war, not even while battling Voldemort himself, had Kingsley ever moved as quickly as he did upon hearing Teddy's little voice coming from the right side of Andromeda's bed. He flew off of her so fast he landed on the floor to the left side of the bed with a hard thump that would surely leave a bruise on his derriere.

"TEDDY!" exclaimed Andromeda. She sat up and turned to him, adjusting her nightgown to avoid showing too much thigh. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?"

"I want water." He placed his hand on her midsection. "Baby?"

"What?"

"Kingsley said he loved your baby." Teddy pushed a little harder. Sometimes he could feel Ginny's new baby kicking inside her tummy, and Harry said if they talked to him he'd know their voices once he got born. "I get a brother?"

"I'm not preg... you can't have a broth... I don't... you..." She pushed his hand away. "Augh! No, Teddy, no babies!"

"Oh." He looked disappointed. "Then I want water."

"GO. TO. BED."

"Nana? I want water." He said this as if she hadn't heard him request it twice already, as if she had no idea why he was out of bed.

Kingsley stood, pulling on his dressing down and tying it at the waist. "How did you get in here, young man? Your grandmother locked the door."

Teddy held up a pink crayon. "I tap-ted the knob and said, 'Alohomora.' Then it opened!"

"That's... very impressive."

Andromeda shot Kingsley a sharp look over her shoulder. "No, it's not. Don't encourage him."

"It _is,_ though. Intentional magic at only five? He knew the proper spell, used a surrogate wand to-"

"Kingsley!" She turned her attention back to her grandson. "To your room this instant, Teddy. I will not put you to bed again. I have done so five times tonight already and it's not yet midnight."

"No. I want water. I want a brother. I want to sleep with you. I want-"

"Get out! Now! Go!"

She did not usually speak to him this harshly - she tried not to, at any rate - but she was done. _Done._ His eyes - impossibly dark brown right now, the mirror image of hers - filled with tears.

"I want water," he whispered.

"No."

"Can't he have some?" asked Kingsley. "If it'll get him back to bed?"

"It won't, though. Because after he drinks it, he'll be up again. To pee. And then he'll ask again to sleep with us. And we'll say no, and he'll want water. All night long. Drink, pee, sleep with you? I'm putting my foot down. I am saying no."

"Naaannnaaaa!"

"Out!" She pointed toward the door. "And leave the crayon."

After a moment's pause, during which his lower lip quivered and his nose twitched and his eyes narrowed furiously, Teddy threw the pink crayon across the room, turned dramatically on the heel of his footsie pajamas, and stalked from the room without saying goodnight.

Kingsley closed the door and used his wand to create a lock that couldn't be undone with a crayon tap and an alohomora to the knob - a hook/eye latch.

"Am I awful not to read him another story?" asked Andromeda, already feeling guilty.

"No." He crawled onto the bed, took her gently by the shoulders, and turned her so they were facing each other. "I _am_ impressed by his spellwork, though. I'd bet ten galleons Hope can't do that."

Andromeda giggled. "Love, you always know just what to say to please a woman!" She guided him into a kiss and they fell back against the pillows, ready to pick up where they'd left off.

But they'd only gotten as far as her mouth on his member when it was the voice of someone else who interrupted.

"ANDROMEDA TONKS, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

"Narcissa?" Kingsley looked down upon Andromeda with confusion. She raised her eyebrows in question, flicked her tongue against his tip, and stood up from her place on the floor in front of him.

"I'd better see what she wants before she wakes Teddy."

She threw her dressing robe on quickly as she headed down the hall.

"ANDROMEDA!" Narcissa shrieked again.

"I'm coming!" hissed Andromeda, reaching the top of the stairs.

"I'm not," muttered Kingsley, heading down the hall in the other direction, toward the loo, also pulling on his robe. He had a feeling it would be awhile before they got back into bed.

When Andromeda reached the bottom of the stairs, she was all set to light into her sister for screaming loud enough to wake the dead in the middle of her sitting room at midnight, but the sight before her stopped her from being able to process all rational thought.

 _"What_ _are you wearing?!"_

Narcissa bristled, tossing her hair haughtily and jutting up her chin, as if she _wasn't_ donning form-fitting lingerie, stilettos, too much makeup, and...

"Is that a dog collar?" Andromeda choked back a snort. Around her sister's neck was something leather and studded, with a little silver tag of metal hanging front and center.

"it's a choker," said Narcissa testily. "Jewelry. I did not have time to find my dressing gown... or remove it. It's... there's a spell to... I can't unclasp it right now!"

"And here you had me believing your sex life was so vanilla you needed to beg for another baby just to get him to get creative - oh, is that what this is? To get him in the mood you had to... what? Trade places with Duchess? That man really does love his little bitch, doesn't he? They say every dog has his day - or hers, perhaps - but I had no idea..."

Narcissa's face went a delicate shade of purple. "Andromeda! I am not here to discuss my wardrobe with you."

"Then why are you here, because it's the only thing I can currently fathom discussing."

"Moments ago, Severus and I were quite unceremoniously interrupted mid... mid... mid..."

"Mid-fetch? Or was he teaching you to roll over?"

Narcissa sapphire eyes flashes. She was in no mood to be teased, especially not by her sister.

"Meda, moments ago, Teddy Flooed directly into our bedroom!"

"Teddy?" This wiped the smirk off Andromeda's face. She glanced around the sitting room. "Where is he?"

Narcissa gestured toward the couch. A lump of blanket stirred; clearly, the child was hiding under it.

"Come out from there, young man," said Andromeda scoldingly. He did not comply.

"Thank Merlin we were only talking!" exclaimed Narcissa. "And Severus was dressed."

"As what? A dog warden?"

"I'm not laughing, Andromeda."

"But I... I _really_ want to, Cissy."

"It's not funny! You let him Floo to us alone?"

"I didn't let him!"

"You told me get out!" came the muffled voice of Teddy from under the blanket. "So I getted out."

"I didn't mean out of the house!" Andromeda moved to the couch, leaning over the back, and tried to divest her grandson of the blanket but he held on tight. "You are in big trouble."

 _"What are you wearing?"_

Kingsley, donning his dressing gown, had joined them in the sitting room.

"OH!" Narcissa tried to cover her upper body with one hand and the collar with the other, but failed miserably. "I didn't know you were... were here... Minister. I... oh!" She yanked the blanket off of Teddy, nearly pulling him right off the couch, and wrapped it around her body. "Andromeda, you need to do something about this out of control child."

"I'm living with you!" said Teddy. "I'm mad at Nana."

"Teddy, to your room, please. I'll be up to speak with you shortly."

"I'm going home!" Narcissa sounded near-hysteria. "We shall discuss this tomorrow!"

"Wait, Cissy..." Andromeda glanced sideways at Kingsley. "Could you bring Teddy upstairs, please?"

"Of course. Come on, lad."

"NO!" shouted Teddy, but upon catching the eye of Kingsley, he slid off the couch and walked to him, taking his hand and allowing himself to be led away.

"Andromeda, I love you, but I cannot keep on like this. Whenever you can't handle him, or can't handle life, you send him to us, and now he's coming over on his own. Tonight was important to me. We... Hope is with Draco and Hermione, Duchess has been locked out of the bedroom, I took a very expensive potion meant to increase the odds of conception, I'm wearing this... this... this bloody collar..."

"I thought it was a choker. Jewelry."

"Meda, please!" Narcissa's voice wobbled as if on the verge of tears and Andromeda suddenly felt a pang of... well, not quite guilt, but she didn't feel good. "I need you to be a better parent to Teddy, or you need to give him to someone else. If you want me and Severus to raise him permanently-"

"What? No!" As much as she maintained she hadn't wanted to start over as a mother again, she'd come a long way from her time in the facility during which she thought he'd be better off with anyone else. "I'm not a bad bloody parent, Narcissa. He only went to you because I sent him to his room. Why are we making it a matter for the Wizengamot?"

"You're a terrible mother!" Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth, but a moment later let it drop, and added softly, "I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

"And you're so fucking wonderful?"

"Hope can already spell several three-letter-"

"Fuck what she can spell. _My daughter_ grew up to be an Auror. _Your son_ grew up to be a Death Eater. Who's the better bloody mother? At least the only times _my child_ went to prison, she was guarding it, not serving time!"

Narcissa backed up as if slapped. "You know nothing of what life was like under the thumb of the Dark Lord."

"I know that even if she had been pureblood, my daughter _never_ would have taken the Dark Mark. I know that even when they tried to recruit her for her skills as a Metamorph, she insisted she'd rather _die_ than serve You-Know-Who. You think you're a better mother than I am because my Teddy has temper tantrums and your Hope can spell 'owl'? You think that means anything, that that measures anything? It doesn't! My daughter was raised to be brave and good and to do the right thing. Your son was a sniveling coward who didn't falter in his devotion until he failed to murder the best headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen!"

"You stop talking about my son, Andromeda."

"You don't talk about Teddy, then."

"My son was a Death Eater because his father was." Without thinking on what she was doing, Narcissa ran her fingertips over teh scarred flesh of her left arm, where she'd burned off the remains of her own Dark Mark years ago. "And your daughter was a decent person because her father was."

"And now that you're with Severus, everything is wonderful? He bears that Mark too, doesn't he? You were both blood supremacists and it's only because your side lost the war that you're raising your daughter any different! You're a pureblood supremacist and always have been!"

"You're an _addict_ and a _prostitute!"_ Narcissa screamed. There was no way Kingsley and Teddy couldn't hear her from upstairs.

"You're both bloody hypocrites, you and Snape, pretending to be perfect parents and perfect people, lecturing _me_ about-"

"I only ever did what I had to to protect my child!" Narcissa was shouting now, her hands thrown in the air, the blanket forgotten on the floor by her feet. "Meanwhile, _your_ child - your _children,_ both Nymphadora _and_ Teddy - have only ever needed protection _from_ you!"

"I don't know why you want to get pregnant again, Narcissa," Andromeda said, disdain dripping from her voice. "Didn't the Healers tell you last time another baby could kill you? Do you really love your daughter _so little_ that you'd risk death in childbirth bearing another just to avoid telling Severus Snape you can't stop dreaming about having sex with your dead Death Eater husband?"

"I loved my husband..." started Narcissa as the floodgates opened. "I loved him, but..."

"But he was never reformed, was he? You loved him as he was, a murderer, like you, a Death Eater, like you, a pureblood supremacist monster, like you-"

"I am not a monster!" Narcissa was full on sobbing now. "And Lucius was not a monster! When I miscarried our baby, he held me and cried. Would a monster... would a monster...?"

"Get pregnant again, Cissy. Do whatever you wish. If you die in childbirth-"

"If I die in childbirth, I'll leave my children to be raise by their father with help from Draco and Hermione, and I'll use my final breath to dictate that you never, ever see any of my children again!"

"Great! Excellent! Brilliant! And I'll use my breath now - hopefully not my final one - to tell you not to worry, I won't be sending Teddy over to your home ever again, so you don't have to worry about raising him for me."

"If I don't raise him, who will? Certainly not you! What if I took that money back, Meda? What then? Going to move Teddy into the brothel with you, maybe let him time your clients and bang on the door when their sessions are up?"

"I'd rather spend the remainder of my days on earth fucking for money than spend one moment living the way you did for almost twenty years, hosting mindless soirees while my husband supported a blood-based genocide, you bubble-headed bigot!"

Narcissa wiped her tears on the backs of her hands, but they continued to fall. Her face was red and splotchy and her breathing was punctuated by little gasps. "Draco _-gasp-_ has turned out well. He is a _-gasp-_ good person. I am pr-proud of _-gasp-_ him, and I intend to do even bet-better with _-gasp-_ Hope. I am s-sorry _-gasp-_ I wasn't better then, s-sorry I didn't _-gasp-_ speak up, but I am n-not a b-bigot." Narcissa covered her face, overcome by sobs, turned, and fled to the fireplace. She was Flooing home before Andromeda, already regretting the row, even had time to call out her name.

That had been five days ago. Though Andromeda had reached out once per day, her sister hadn't spoken to her since.

SUNDAY'S SESSION

"In all fairness, she said some cruel things to you, too," said Adelaide. "The ugliness in that fight was not one-sided."

"I attacked her son and her dead husband. I was out of line."

"She called you a prostitute, an addict, and a terrible mother."

"I know," said Andromeda. She picked up the couch pillow to fiddle with the fringe. "But she was telling the truth."

"As were you. She does not wish to hear those things about Lucius Malfoy, but they weren't lies. He was, indeed, a supporter of You-Know-Who through most of both wars."

Andromeda shrugged. "I said what I did to hurt her."

"But didn't she do the same? This reminds me of our early conversations about Kingsley. You judge yourself harshly, but overlook the flaws and hurtful actions of others. You were nasty to each other, I won't sugarcoat it, but the blame is not yours alone."

"I suppose." Andromeda reached for her now-cold tea. She tapped the side of her mug with her wand, muttering a warming charm, before taking a sip. "Let's move on, shall we? And let's move... out of here." She stood, mug in hand, and led the way to the sitting room. She felt more comfortable in their usual places. Adelaide, without questioning, followed. Once they were settling and the quill and parchment were both hovering by her side, the Healer was ready to resume.

"Could we discuss sex? Since Kingsley isn't here, perhaps it will be easier than doing so together."

"Not much to discuss. I let him get me naked and then I get him all excited and then I think up reasons to end our encounters prematurely, or to engage in... another way, so to speak. He says he doesn't mind but I am a better Legilimens than he is an Occlumens. He minds."

"Tell me about one of your recent times together. What happened? What stopped you?"

"Well.."

THREE DAYS PRIOR

"Yes, yes, yes, Kingsley, yes, there, oh!" Andromeda bucked her hips, her hand on the back of Kingsley's head, as he brought her to the brink with his fingers and tongue. "Fuck, yes, yes... ohh... fuck, Minister, I love you!"

She loved calling him Minister in bed. She loved the reminder that she was fucking the Minister for Magic. The bloody Minister himself. He was the Minister for Magic, and he wanted her, and that realization never ceased to turn her on.

This evening's orgasm was a particularly pleasant one. Her eyes literally saw stars - actual stars! - as she cried out his name and title again, along with some nonsense sounds that didn't quite form words, as her body thrummed with pleasure.

He moved his body up over hers, resting his chest against her breasts, and kissed her deeply. When they parted, he begged, "Let me have you tonight, Andromeda. Baby, please, I need you."

"Yes," she said, and their lips met again, and she had every intention of following through. She stroked his semi-hardness until he was fully erect again, as he'd been before she used her mouth on him, and she guided him on top of her, and she parted her legs, and she felt him at her entrance...

And then, for no reason at all, she burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking down upon with her concern, but also with a touch of... impatience.

"I'm a dirty filthy prostitute who was unfaithful to you because I needed a fix, and then I did it again in the facility with that nurse, and don't deserve you, I'm a terrible mother and a worse grandmother, and you're so wonderful, you're too good for me, you've always been too good for me, I've never been anything worth caring about, and I..."

"Not this again!" He flopped onto his back and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "We were both unfaithful. It's behind us now. We've moved on."

"I cheated on one of my O.W.L.s, and..."

"You already confessed to me about the exam."

"And I had an abortion when Nymphadora was young..."

"I know about the abortion."

"And sometimes when I'm in the shower I hold the razor against my wrists and I think about how much better the world would be if I weren't a part of it, and I press down just a little, and-"

"What?" He sat up, suddenly interested. "What do you do?"

She covered her face with her hands and cried, and he sighed and held her, and... yet again... an entire evening passed during which they did not have sex.

SUNDAY

"You do that?" Healer Smelthwick grabbed Andromeda's wrist and turned it over to examine her skin. There were a couple of small nicks there, but they looked more like snags from Meow-Meow's sharp kitten claws than self-inflicted injuries.

"Don't worry," said Andromeda calmly. "I never press hard enough to draw blood. Those are from the stupid cat, just as they look to be."

"Mrrowww," growled Meow-Meow, as if in warning. He glared at them from his spot curled up in front of the fire.

"He's a menace," Andromeda whispered. "He claws me all to hell when I try to clip the dung from his fur. He can't seem to get it all in the litter box, it just hangs there until it drops off somewhere in my spotlessly clean house, just waiting to be stepped in."

"Have you been hurting yourself?" The Healer did not release Andromeda's hand. She ran her wand tip over the thin skin there, through which the veins were visible, doing a diagnostic test of some kind. She must have been satisfied with the results, because she returned her patient's hand to the pillow in her lap a moment later.

"I don't do it. I only think about it."

"What compels you to consider hurting yourself? What specifically...?"

"I think about when I was a girl. When the blood... when I thought pure blood was gold, or some rubbish. When I didn't realize we bled red the same as anyone else. We bleed the same and hurt the same and love the same and live the same and die the same. Why couldn't my parents see that? It became clear to me when I was nine. But they died still believing themselves superior, simply for having come from families with long lineages that intersected in too many places."

"So you're not thinking of suicide? I am worried, Andromeda. You mentioned it earlier, you brought it up twice now, and then you tell me you're considering hurting yourself...?"

"I'm not suicidal," said Andromeda, sighing. "I'm simply... sad."

TWO DAYS PRIOR

Teddy dumped out every single toy bin in the sitting room, kicked the contents across the floor, and lobbed his beloved paint set into the fireplace. He was in a rage, and there was no stopping him.

"I will speak with you when you're ready to use a calm, quiet voice," said Andromeda. She quickly extinguished the fire for safety purposes, Vanished the Floo powder up to her bedroom, and turned her back on him, refusing to give the negative attention he was clearly seeking.

He then unleashed all the four-letter inappropriate words he knew at top volume, knocked over the cat's water dish, and even smacked the backs of Andromeda's legs several times. Still, she refused to engage.

"I WANT GO WITH HARRY!"

She shook her head, but did not speak. He had already been told if he wanted to spend the weekend at a Quidditch training camp with Harry and Ron, all he had to do was clean up his bedroom. There were toys and books on the floor and biscuit crumbs on the little table and clothes spilling out of the hamper and crayon markings on the back of the door - which he swore he didn't do, even though "someone" had written _TEDDY LUPIN_ in huge pink letters. Save for the crayon markings, it was starting to look like Kingsley's bedroom, honestly, and she not only couldn't stand it anymore, she couldn't keep cleaning it up only for him to destroy it a day later.

Now, of course, he was destroying literally everything he could reach, which meant he'd have a _lot_ of cleaning to do if he wanted to go on the trip.

"I HATE YOU!" screamed Teddy. "I HATE YOU HATE YOU HATE YOU NANA YOU ARE NOT MY MUMMY!"

She inhaled slowly, deeply, and stared at the blank wall before her. Keep calm. Ignore. Let him finish his tirade, then deal with him once calm.

"I WANT GINNY TO BE MY MUMMY AND NOT YOU!"

 _Breathe in, breathe out. He doesn't mean it. He's only try to rile you up._

"YOU ARE A STUPID STUPID BAD MEAN BAD BAD NANA!"

It was when she heard glass breaking she finally turned around.

"What was... Teddy!"

He had somehow - accidental magic, perhaps? - gotten down from the mantle the only displayed picture she kept of Ted, and smashed the frame against the edge of the fireplace, sending glass flying.

"Evanesco!" she called, waving her wand, hoping she got it all before he could step on it and cut himself. He held up the photograph.

"Teddy, put that down please." Damaged photos developed magically so they'd move were incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to repair.

"I. Want. To. Go. With. Harry."

"Put the picture down on the table, please," she had one hand out with palm facing forward and her wand at the ready. She felt like a hostage negotiator in one of those Muggle movies Ted used to like. "Put the picture down, please."

"I. WANT. TO. GO." He spat each word out as if it were its own sentence. He was glaring at her, unblinking. His hair was Mercury red, and his eyes, which had been blue all day, were darkening. He looked a little... evil. It was unsettling.

"You need to clean your room before-"

 _RIP_

Right in half, right down the center.

"No!" Andromeda rushed forward, snatching the two pieces from him. A Reparo wouldn't fix this, but she tried anyway. It was ruined. Irreparably. She sank to her knees, feeling as though her heart had torn with it. Though she and Ted had had their problems, and though she tried not to think about him much since his death, as it was too painful, she had loved him with all her heart, and she loved this picture, and now it was ruined. "Teddy, that was very, very wrong! That..." She blinked back tears. "That hurts Nana's feelings."

"Good!" shouted Teddy, inches from her face. "I'M MAD."

"You're not going with Harry," she said softly, still holding the torn sides of the photo together. "You're going to your room."

"NO, NANA, NO!" He cried and carried on, stomping his feet, slamming his lists fists against his thighs. "IS NOT FAIR!"

"To your room, now. You've behaved very badly today, and I am not happy."

"I HATE YOU."

"Go to your room."

Teddy screamed and punched her upper arm, then tried to wrestle half the photograph from her hand. In doing so, it tore again, this time right across Ted's face.

"You are in big trouble, Edward Remus Lupin." She dropped what was left of the photograph and grabbed him by the shoulders, standing him directly in front of her. "Your behavior is out of control and unacceptable, and I am very, very upset with you."

"I. DON'T. CARE." He moved his face close to hers. His eyes were mirrors of her own, mirrors of her older sister's, and his hair changed to be the same as hers too - wild and curly and black. The resemblance to young Bellatrix was uncanny. "I'M GOING WITH HARRY."

"You most certainly are not!"

Teddy's face twisted up with a viciouness she'd never seen upon it before, and never wanted to again. Right in her face, he shouted, "You're an addict and a prostitute!" Those were the exact same words Narcissa had screamed at her the other night, and between his mimicry of one sister's words and his unintended visual resemblance to her other sister, she had had quite enough.

She reached her hand back and slapped his face.

He backed away, stunned, as she released his arm. Now his expression was one of fear that instantly made her regret her action.

"I'm sorry, Teddy, but..."

The fireplace roared to life, and out stepped Harry Potter, at the absolute worst possible time.

"Nana hit me!" cried Teddy, throwing himself against his godfather's legs.

"What?" Harry pushed up his glasses and regarded Andromeda stonily. "You hit him?"

"Look at this room! He's been impossible all day. He said... he said something mean..." She trailed off, realizing how petty and wrong she sounded. The child was sobbing. Harry lifted him into a hug.

"Is his bag packed?"

"I... no! He can't go!" Andromeda felt trapped, caged. She could sense what Harry was thinking about her, how harshly he was judging her now. "He hasn't cleaned his bedroom, he..."

"I think it's better for everyone if I take him with me," said Harry. "I think we have a change of clothes and a pair of pajamas for him at Grimmauld Place. I can pick up whatever else we need."

"You don't understand!" Andromeda reached for Harry's hand, but he backed away. "Let me explain."

"Did you hit him?"

"Yes, but..."

"That's all the explanation I need." Harry hadn't looked upon her this sternly since the day he came to Malfoy Manor to arrest her, her sister, and Draco (and ended up leaving with Narcissa alone). But last time he hadn't also appeared completely disgusted. She bit her lower lip. If only he would listen.

"Teddy was having a tantrum, he was destroying the house..."

"Let's go, Teddy." Harry glared at her. "I'll not let my godson be abused."

"Please, let me tell you what happened!"

Harry shook his head. He stepped into the fireplace, the boy still in his arms. "You hit him. That's all I need to know." He threw down some Floo powder. "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

And they were gone.

SUNDAY'S SESSION

"I do not condone slapping the child, but I understand why you were feeling hurt and frustrated, and I do think Harry ought to have let you explain."

"He was supposed to be back tonight, but Harry send a Patronus to tell me they'd be keeping him a few more days." Andromeda twirled the fringed edge of the pillow around her index finger. "He didn't ask permission, he just _told_ me."

"He thinks he's doing what's right by the boy, but ultimately, _you_ are his legal guardian and _you_ decide where he goes and with whom and when he comes home," Adelaide reminded her.

"I shouldn't have hit him."

They talked about Teddy for several more minutes, but then Adelaide Smelthwick wanted to segue into the end of the week, the events that led to Kingsley's inebriation and subsequent unconsciousness, the reason he was currently curled up in her bed with a hangover.

"I'll look even worse in this story than I did in the last one," Andromeda warned her.

"Let's dive right in," replied Adelaide.

ONE DAY PRIOR

Andromeda spent the week applying for jobs - when she wasn't busy making Narcissa cry, disappointing Kingsley, or slapping Teddy. By Saturday she'd received four form rejections and two personalized ones. Oh-for-six.

How was it she'd attended Hogwarts for almost six full years and yet finished school completely unskilled? She scoured the classifieds - both magic and Muggle - seeking positions as a secretary, a stenographer, a records keeper, a receptionist...

Most Muggle jobs sought people with University degrees on their CVs. Most wizarding world jobs required the full seven years of magical education. She supposed she could put her own ad in the papers seeking work, but what was she supposed to write?

 _Widowed single parent, dropped out of wizard school on seventeenth birthday, seeking employment. Highly adept at cleaning charms, basic astronomy, and reciting facts relating to goblin rebellions. Fired from last job for stealing with the intention of using drugs. Recovering alcoholic, dates important magical man. Can write using quill or pencil, but can't type on a Muggle computer or conjure a corporeal Patronus._

Yes, she was a real catch as far as the working world was concerned.

So she gave up, made herself a cup of coffee, opened a tin of chocolate biscuits, and sat down at the table with her crossword puzzle. Oh, that's something she was good at. Add that to the add. _Can compete a crossword puzzle in record time, especially while bored on the clock._

She was halfway through with her second puzzle when there came a knock on the door. Hoping it was Narcissa, come to make up, she rose to answer it.

It was not Narcissa.

"May I come in?" Hestia Jones, age thirty-four, curvy and pretty and less of a mess than she was, stood on her stoop.

"Why?" asked Andromeda.

"I need to speak with you. Kingsley has been avoiding me."

"Congratulations on your new Ministry appointment," Andromeda said flatly, moving aside to grant the witch entrance. "Your parents must be proud."

"Oh, do you remember them from Hogwarts?" asked Hestia, a little too innocently. "I believe my mother was Head Girl when you were in... fifth year? Bettina Goode."

"I was in third," Andromeda corrected, her eyes narrowing at the reminder of their age difference. She was only four years younger than the girl's mother - surely that meant Kingsley was too old for her, given he was only seven years Andromeda's junior, and ten years older than Hestia.

"Where should we sit? To talk?"

"In the kitchen." Andromeda saw no reason to get comfortable in front of the fireplace, on her couch, where she and Kingsley had their Sunday therapy sessions. She led the younger woman into the kitchen where she poured a cup of coffee without first asking if she wanted one. "Milk or sugar?"

"Both, please. One lump."

Andromeda prepared it by hand and set it in front of her. They sat across from each other, hands on their mugs... waiting.

"Well? What is it?" asked Andromeda after a silence.

"You know Kingsley and I were together for a long time. Years."

"Yes."

"And he stopped seeing me after he developed an... _interest..._ in you."

"Yes."

"But over the summer, when we were away together... did he tell you...?"

"I know he fucked you four times in a hotel room after getting pissed off Muggle spirits."

"He'd only been drinking the first time!" Hestia snapped defensively. She paused, took several breaths, and started again. "Yes, that's true, the first time he had been drinking, as had I. Quite a lot. And it was unplanned. But the other times..."

"I don't need details," said Andromeda, though part of her wanted them.

"We continued to share a bed for the duration of the trip, though we weren't 'together' every night from there on. Only three more times." Hestia had the decency to look embarrassed about this, but that didn't make Andromeda loathe her any less.

"I said I don't need details."

"I thought he and I would marry." Hestia's voice wobbled and Andromeda fought the urge to roll her eyes. She had no desire to listen to the pathetic child cry over him. "We were very much in love for most of those years. But I wanted children. I want children."

"And he does not. I know."

"I had an abortion for him. Did you know that?" Hestia's eyes were glassy and full of genuine sorry. Andromeda knew she should feel badly for her, but ever-the-Slytherin, she assumed this was but a tactic of manipulation, and wondered what the girl's end game could be. "Did Kingsley tell you what he made me do?"

"He said he suggested it, not that he forced you."

"He can think he merely suggested it, but he made it clear... his view on the matter... by saying what he did..."

"You feel he forced you. I'm sorry." Her apology was wooden, her face expressionless. She would give nothing away to this witch. She owed her nothing, and was already granting the woman her time. Surely that was enough.

"It is the greatest regret of my life, and I won't do it again."

"Excuse me?" Andromeda set down her mug and leaned forward. What did she mean?

Hestia pulled a rolled parchment from her shoulder bag. She slid it across the table to Andromeda. "I had a fiance. Things between us were... not good. When I confessed to him about what happened with Kingsley, he left me. Now I'm alone."

"Yes?" With steady hands that belied the panic inside her, Andromeda unfurled the parchment.

"I don't mind if I have to do it alone, and I don't know... I don't know which of them I'm doing it without, if you catch my meaning, but I thought Kingsley ought to know, and since he's been avoiding me, I came to you. It was that or to the papers."

It was a diagnostic workup, courtesy of a St. Mungo's midwife. Nymphadora had presented Andromeda and Ted with one just like it when she shared with them her news, sitting right here at this table six years ago.

 _"Remus will come back," Nymphadora had insisted. "I won't have to do it alone."_

 _But Andromeda and Ted weren't so sure he'd be back, and they weren't so sure they wanted him to come back, and so they assured their daughter they'd be there for her every step and she'd not have to do a moment of it alone. Not the pregnancy, not the birth, and not raising her child._

"Maybe, if it's his, he'll come around and we'll have a family and everything will be fine," said Hestia hopefully, looking far too much like Nymphadora in that moment for Andromeda's liking. "But if it's not, or if it is and he doesn't, it doesn't matter. It's mine and I'm keeping it." She sipped the coffee, set it down, and stood. "I'm sorry for you to find out this way."

"No, you're not." Andromeda felt stunned, sick. She couldn't stand, couldn't see this little bitch to the door.

"I won't lie, I still love him. I've always loved him. And if... if this brings us back together..."

"It won't."

"He'd be better off with me, with our child, than with-"

"If you call me a whore I swear I'll hex you into 2004, I don't care how 'with child' you are."

Hestia sniffled and tossed her wavy hair, pushed back her shoulders, and glared icily down at Andromeda, though it was clear she was still close to tears.

"Before you, he loved me. And for those four nights over the summer, he loved me again. If it's his - and I think it is - he'll come 'round. I'm better for him. Even _you_ must be able to see that. The Prophet hasn't been kind to you, and because of you, they've stopped being kind to him. You're bad for his career, his parents don't like you, everyone knows you laid down for a former _Death Eater_ while you were seeing him. Together he and I could have a family and a life and a future. With you he could have... a disease."

Andromeda felt a chill as ice flooded into her veins, stabbing her as it moved through her circulatory system, filling her with a cruelty she'd often seen in her home as a child but rarely exhibited then, as she wanted to be nice, to be loved, more than she wanted anything else. She found the will to stand, and she moved close to Hestia, who slinked back. Andromeda was taller, and she did indeed resemble Bellatrix, and she could tell the former Auror was intimidated.

"If you were smart," Andromeda said, surprising even herself with how much she sounded like her older sister. "You would drop this foolish notion of a future family with Kingsley. He doesn't want you, and he doesn't want your bastard baby."

"I can't live with myself if I have another abortion." Hestia's voice wasn't confident now. It was small, and meek, and weak. Andromeda felt a pang of something like sympathy, which she suppressed.

"Can't live with yourself?"

Hestia shook her head.

"In that case, you ought to do the world a favor, and the next time you're in Hogsmeade, toddle up to the Hogwarts astronomy tower... and throw yourself off."

"Excuse me?" whispered Hestia.

"Two birds, one stone. No baby, and you also won't have to live with yourself."

"You truly are an absolutely horrible person." Hestia hurried toward the door. "Keep the diagnostic. Show it to Kingsley. It's a copy of the original. I don't understand what he sees in you, I honestly don't. You haven't a single redeeming quality, you don't treat him well, and you're not even that attractive! Tonks was such a sweet, funny, lovely, _caring_ woman. How is it possible she was raised by someone like _you?"_

"She wasn't," said Andromeda, opening the door and ushering Hestia back onto the stoop. "She was raised entirely by her father."

 _SLAM_

SUNDAY'S SESSION

"She's right." Andromeda chuckled bitterly. "I have absolutely no redeeming qualities."

"That's not true." Adelaide crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. "But _were_ you unkind to her. While I would have swiftly ushered her out of my home too, were I in your shoes, suggesting she kill herself and the baby was - forgive my word choice - overkill."

"What she said, though. About me, and about Kingsley. It's not anything I haven't heard before, or even said myself before, but coming from her... from someone he loved before me, someone he might still have feelings for..."

"I have no feelings for her."

Andromeda jumped and Adelaide glanced up in surprise. Kingsley had just come down the stairs and entered the sitting room. He was wearing pajamas under an open dressing down. He looked like death warmed over.

"I have a headache," he said. "But I wanted to join you. Am I too late?"

"I told Andromeda early in this session we could extend the time, as I'm away next weekend."

"Her son is seeing Charlie Weasley," explained Andromeda. "She's going to Romania to meet him because her son wants to invite him for Christmas."

"That's nice," said Kingsley genuinely, before he collapsed onto the couch. Andromeda immediately guided him onto his back with his head in her lap, and began to massage his temples.

"How much did you drink?" asked Adelaide.

"All of it," he answered.

ONE DAY PRIOR

After Hestia left, Andromeda threw herself onto her bed and cried. Then she picked herself up, dragged herself into the shower, and cried some more. She purposely nicked her inner wrist with the razor, but when the tiny trickle of blood brought no satisfaction, she put it down and cried again.

He was - quite possibly - going to be a father. He was going to have what she could never give him. Sure, he said he didn't want it, but a lot of people said they didn't want children only to have them and be happy about it later. And she knew he felt guilty about having been the catalyst for Hestia's regrettable previous abortion. Surely he wouldn't even ask it of her again.

No, he would end up back with her. And he would watch her grow and change and fucking gestate for months and months, and he'd fall in love with the idea of a baby, with the idea of their baby, and then she would give birth and hell, by then it might not even matter whether it was his or not, they'd be so bloody happy together they'd get married and raise it together and live happily ever after.

And the one source of pride in her life, the only thing she'd ever had that made her feel better than what she was, would be gone, because the Minister for Magic wouldn't have use for her anymore.

She would be but a memory, a bad dream, a brief mistake in the timelines of that child's parents' relationship.

And while she didn't want any more children (and thought Narcissa was borderline barmy for trying to get pregnant at her age!) she couldn't help feeling jealous because even if she and Kingsley _did_ want children, she couldn't do a damn thing about it. She'd had that stupid partial hysterectomy, which robbed of her the ability to reproduce and plunged her into early menopause.

His fucking ex-fucking-girlfriend was fucking pregnant, and Andromeda was nearly a decade into _menopause._

In addition to hating herself for knowing she was about to lose him and hating herself for the fact that she couldn't give him what Hestia could, she hated herself because everything Hestia said about her was true... and everything she'd said to Hestia was cruel. Unnecessarily cruel, just as the things she'd said to Narcissa had been unnecessarily cruel, and the way she'd treated Teddy after he ripped the picture was unnecessarily cruel.

Perhaps, as a person, she was simply unnecessarily cruel.

 _She_ should be the one throwing herself off that astronomy tower, as she'd considered doing countless times as a student there. Not Hestia. Not young, kind, hardworking Hestia, with an education and a good job and a history of having served in the Order of the Phoenix while Andromeda deemed it too dangerous and didn't even want her daughter involved.

She was cruel, and she was a coward.

And she saw no reason to gone on this way, or in any way.

So she got out of the shower, dried, dressed, and went to the nearest shop that would suit her needs - Hadley's Off Licence. She purchased the largest bottle of firewhisky they sold and apparated back home.

She poured herself a tumbler full and sat at the kitchen table with her abandoned crossword and the two dirty coffee cups and the mug of chocolate biscuits and the bottle and the glass. She sat there for over two hours, during which time the sun set, but she did not bother turning on any lights in the room. When Kingsley arrived, late for dinner (as she'd known he would be; he'd had a meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister) this was how he found her, sitting in the dark, the firewhisky bottle on the table to her left, the glass tumbler full of whisky in her right.

"What is this?" he asked. He sat across from her, concern and disappointment etched across his face. She took the rolled up parchment off her lap and slid it across the table to him.

"Hestia Jones dropped by today. She left this for me to share with you."

He opened it. He read.

He rolled it back up. He reached for the glass.

He downed the firewhisky in three large gulps. The cinnamon liquid surely burned going down.

He put one arm on the table and rested his forehead atop it.

And he started to cry.

SUNDAY'S SESSION

"I finished off the bottle, but Andromeda - she sat there for hours before I arrived, and she didn't have a single sip." He was on his back still, eyes closed, as she massaged his head. His entire body hurt like he'd been run over by the Knight Bus. He'd never been much of a drinker, and since she'd been home, he had mostly been abstaining too. He certainly hadn't had too much since that one night with Hestia - that one horrible night.

"Do you intend to discuss this with Hestia," asked Healer Smelthwick, concerned for Kingsley's physical and mental wellbeing. She'd never seen him like this.

"I won't be cruel," he started. Andromeda interjected.

"Unlike how I was."

"But I was up front with her from the very start of our relationship that I have no desire to have children."

"You'll learn to love it, if it's yours," said Andromeda quietly as she stroked his head. "You love Teddy, don't you?"

"Very much. And I'm sure you're right. But I did not want to be a father. I have always been adamant I did not want to be a father. I do not want to be a father."

"Why?"

Adelaide vocalized the question Andromeda had always wanted to ask him, but never had. When he did not respond, the Healer inquired again.

"Why not, Minister?"

"It's a long story," he answered. "And I don't have the energy to tell it today."


	22. Part Two: Week 9

**A/N:**

Please continue to forgive typos. I'm still working without a Word program and therefore miss more than I should, but I'm doing my best to catch everything! Long chapter here - longest thus far - with slightly different formatting. Happy reading!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

 **END OF WEEK NINE**

Midnight on the beach in Barcelona

20 September, 2003

Saturday

Andromeda took a deep breath, inhaling the sea air. She loved water. As a young girl, she dreamt of someday living surrounded by ocean, on a small deserted island, surrounded by books and puzzles and her favorite porcelain dolls, without a single other soul in sight. This wasn't the middle of the Atlantic, but the Mediterranean Sea was beautiful, especially with the full moon shining down upon the lightly lapping water. She kissed the natural, wavy brown hair of Teddy, asleep in her arms. He had his legs dangling down on either side of her hip, one hand resting on her chest and the other hanging behind her back, his cheek to her shoulder.

In this moment, she couldn't believe she'd ever thought anyone else ought to raise him. He was as much her child as he was her daughter's.

She'd been there when he was born, watched as he took his first breath, let out her own held breath when he cried moments after birth. She'd been the one to hand him to Nymphadora, wrapped in a blanket, and she'd talked her daughter through nursing him for the first time. And the second. And the third, and fourth, and fifth, as it took a few times for him to latch correctly, and for Nymphadora to feel comfortable with the feeding.

She'd been the one holding him, rocking him to sleep, when word came that both Lupins had been killed.

She'd been the one to comfort him in the weeks that followed, when he'd wake and cry and couldn't be soothed, and though everyone said he was too young to understand and wouldn't remember anyway, she'd held him and whispered promises to care for him and assured him that his mother loved him more than life, which is why she'd given hers to make sure his would be better.

She was the one who taught him to sit up, holding him upright, then letting go for just a second, letting him balance but catching him before he tipped over until he got the hang of it.

She'd set him on his tummy periodically throughout each day as he learned to lift his own body, creep along the floor, and crawl.

She'd helped him learn to walk, which wasn't easy, as Metamorphs are notoriously clumsy. Something about having the ability to control their bodies in ways others couldn't imagine left them unable to control their bodies in ways others were naturally adept at.

She'd fed him and bathed him and read to him, making his favorite foods, singing his favorite tub songs, and acting out his favorite picture book scenes.

And she'd done it all alone.

Well-meaning others tried to help, Potter, in particular, liked to visit baby Teddy, bringing the infant impractical gifts he couldn't possibly appreciate any time soon, but she thanked the boy and let him hold his godson and updated him on the latest developments in regards to his development. Then she filled a cupboard with things in bins with labels like "For Teddy, age 6+" and "For Teddy, early Hogwarts" so she'd know just where to find them once he reached the appropriate ages. His Firebolt 360 was in there, hanging on the wall, waiting, as were a limited edition Wizard's Chess set, an enchanted snow globe with a docile werewolf inside, and a gold-gilded gobstones game, among other things. Both Ginny Weasley-Potter and Hermione Granger offered to babysit on occasion, but she rarely took them up on it, especially not before he was a year old, as she felt she couldn't trust anyone else with her precious boy. He was all she had left of her beloved husband and only daughter. She'd never loved anyone as much or as fiercely as she did her daughter, and while Teddy didn't fill the void, he was his own joy.

Until he was two she slept with his crib beside her bed, worried something horrible would happen to him in the night if she wasn't right there.

And then, what had happened?

She fell apart, that's what.

She started drinking. That was the beginning of the end. Wine with dinner. Whisky after. A mimosa for breakfast. Champagne out at work events. More and more and more, increasing in amount and frequency, until she was spiraling out of control.

And that's when the depression set in.

Which led to the resurgence of her deep-seated self-loathing.

That self-loathing - and a fear of being found a fraud, of being labeled "alcoholic whore" instead of "doting grandmother" - was the primary reason she turned down Kingsley's proposal, which left her feeling guilty and sick.

And in need of an escape.

Which is where the drugs came in.

"What are you thinking about?" Kingsley's breath was hot on her cheek. He placed a tender kiss below her ear. She hadn't heard him coming up behind her, but of course she wouldn't. He was barefoot in the sand, and the waves crashing along the rocks would cover most quiet ambient sounds.

"I'm not a terrible person," she whispered. She wasn't sure if she was informing him of this or just trying to convince herself. He kissed her again, same spot below the ear.

"No, you're not."

"Healer Smelthwick said I'm impulsive. She said that at our last session, before you came down. She said I'm impulsive and I react before fully considering the consequence of my words or actions, and then I feel deeply remorseful."

"That's true." Another kiss. This time he did not pull away after, but rather let his soft lips rest against the tender, sunburned skin of her shoulder, not pressing hard enough to hurt. His left hand went to her abdomen, just above Teddy's knee, and he pulled her back until she relaxed against his chest.

"Not you, though. You're careful. You plan everything."

"The first time we were together, I did not plan." He nuzzled against the crook of her neck. "I lost control. It was unlike me to do so. But you, you're impulsive... afterward, were you remorseful?"

"No. I've never regretted you."

"Nor I, you."

She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on her grandson. He was starting to get heavy. Gone were the days when she could balance him on her hip and carry him all over creation. He was growing up a little more every day, and she'd missed three months of it while she was away in the facility... and a good six months of it before that, while she was gradually losing herself to addiction.

"I mean it, Andromeda." His other arm wrapped around Teddy, holding them both. "I regret what I said to you in the facility during our fight, and I've regretted things I've said and done before and since, but I've never regretted _you._ I love you."

"I love you, too." She turned her face toward his and kept her eyes closed as their lips met. Hers tasted of cherry lip balm, his of the vanilla ice cream sundae the three had shared after dinner.

"Let's return to the hotel," he murmured, not pulling away. "We'll put Teddy down and I'll show you how much I love you."

She snorted and withdrew just a millimeter. "As romantic as that sounds, I'm not shagging you in that bed with Teddy sleeping in the bed beside us." They'd transfigured him a toddler bed like the one he had at home, but as the hotel room was small, it was pushed up next to the one they were sharing.

"Who said anything about shagging in that bed? We have a balcony, a shower, a jacuzzi tub..."

"You're such a _man."_ With an uncharacteristic giggle, she pulled away, hoisting Teddy up higher as he'd started to slip.

"Would you prefer I be a woman?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous, dear." She rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. "I'm not forty-eight anymore."

He let out a laugh, a big booming laugh that frightened a bird foraging for food in a nearby trash receptacle, and shook his head. He looked particularly handsome tonight, in his traditional Nigerian wizard's robe, deep purple (her favorite color on him), and matching cap. Though she'd spent most of her adult life dressing like a Muggle and not being at all sorry to leave the witch's robes and long dresses and Hogwarts uniforms of her youth behind, she found wizard attire on him inexplicably attractive. Hell, who was she kidding? She also found him attractive in jeans and a jumper, or in swim shorts, or in nothing at all.

Kingsley slipped his sandals back on and she did the same. It was a cool night, but not anywhere near as cold as back home, as the summer season was just coming to a close in Barcelona. It had been so hot during the day they'd taken Teddy swimming in the sea and had a picnic on the beach. She'd burned, especially on her face and shoulders, despite wearing Muggle sunscreen and using a skin protection spell before the left the hotel in the morning.

Teddy had gotten a little sun too, mostly on his cheeks and nose, despite frequent reapplications of the sunscreen (which he fought, as he hated the feel of the cream on his face).

"I don't understand why you two are so red," said Kingsley after they ordered dinner at a tapas place near the aquarium. "I didn't use any sunscreen, and I'm fine."

"You can burn without looking or feeling burnt, Minister. How many times have I advised you to read up on the dangers of skin cancer?"

After a brief lecture, which ended when he conceded that he could, indeed, benefit from using sunscreen even if he didn't think he needed it, they'd turned their attention to Teddy, who was all-too happy to recount for them every single fun thing he'd done all day, despite the fact that they'd been with him for the entirety of it.

When they paid before departing, the waitress said something to Kingsley in Spanish, to which he replied, "Gracias."

"What was that about?" asked Andromeda when they were again outside, walking back toward the water to watch the twilight give way to total darkness.

"She said we have an adorable son and I said thank you."

"You didn't correct her?" Andromeda glanced at Teddy, who was running ahead, kicking up sand and trying to keep his balance.

"Should I have corrected her?"

Andromeda thought this over for a moment while she watched Teddy. The boy pitched forward, landing on his knees in the soft sand.

"Ow! Kingsley, I fell down _again!"_

"What do you do when you fall down?" asked Kingsley, reaching out a hand to the boy.

"Get back up," answered Teddy. "Come on, I want to step in the water and Nana won't get wet." (Andromeda had a 'no wading after dark' rule, as she wasn't the strongest swimmer and was therefore afraid to fall and get swept away.) She hung back, watching Teddy pull Kingsley toward the shore.

 _No,_ she decided. _No, he shouldn't have corrected her._

Ten PM Sunday

Six days prior

London

"I don't want to sleep here tonight," Andromeda informed Kingsley, shortly after Healer Smelthwick left after their session.

"I can't travel," said Kingsley, pressing his fingertips to his temples.

"Just as far as your place. Please. I cannot take another night in this house."

Though he would have been content to curl up back upstairs in her bed and not move for the next twelve hours (at least) until the hangover subsided, he said fine and forced himself to rise.

"I'll pack a bag."

Less than half an hour later, after packing and setting out extra food and water for the demon kitty, she apparated them both from her sitting room to his. The wards on his home were such that he was the only one able to apparate directly, but side-along worked if he was one of those traveling. It was risky, apparating with an inebriated person, but she was highly adept at doing it while pissed thanks to years of practice, thus being sober and taking him along was no issue for her; no one was splinched.

"In the name of Salazar Slytherin, Kingsley, were you _robbed?"_ asked Andromeda, gazing around the parlor of his home (the official residence of the Minister for Magic). Books and old Prophets littered the top of every surface, there was nearly empty butterbeer bottles strewn about, several pairs of shoes were on the floor by the fireplace (all his, save for a pair of Teddy's trainers), there was a fruit bowl of half-rotten apples in the center of the coffee table, and there was a basket of dirty laundry on the couch... surrounded by piles of clean laundry, only some of which was folded. And the bookshelves sported a lovely layer of dust that gave everything a dismal shine when the sunlight streaming in from the opposite window hit.

"The maid quit," he joked, but the chuckle that followed made him wince.

"Go to bed," she said, pushing him toward the stairs. "If you can _find_ your bed in this mess. I'll deal with this."

He'd always been a lot less meticulously tidy than she was, but damn! If Teddy lived here, he could keep his room as cluttered as he wanted and it still wouldn't be the messiest room in the house.

While Kingsley slept off the remainder of the spirits consumed the night before, she went from room to room, using a combination of cleaning charms and elbow grease to make it look presentable. She then checked the cupboards and refrigerator only to find... no food. They were almost as bare as hers had been when she and Teddy ran out awhile back. She sighed, left him a note in case he should wake, took some grocery money from the pouch he kept in a kitchen drawer, and went to the market. When she returned, she found the note still on the table and him still asleep, so she switched from cleaning to cooking.

"What's that smell?" Kingsley wandered into the kitchen shortly before seven, looking a little less worse for wear than he had that morning. She handed him a vial of Pepper-up Potion.

"Picked that up while I was out, if you need it."

"No, thank you. The side-effects are worse than what it's made to combat. You went out?" He sat at the table. He was wearing pajama bottoms and an undershirt, clothes he typically only slept in when Teddy was present.

"I picked up a ginger tea that should help soothe your stomach before we eat." She gestured to the kettle on the stove, which wasn't yet whistling. "I'll make you eggs and toast. If you think you can stomach it, I'm making beans and grilled tomato for myself to have with it; you're welcome to have some."

"You cleaned my house?"

"Every room except your bedroom and the private bath. I've not yet been brave enough to venture in."

The home was large, with five bedrooms, two and a half baths, the sitting room, the book-lined study, the kitchen, a small cellar potions lab, and a formal parlor meant for entertaining distinguished guests. Kingsley generally confined himself to only half of these, having little use for the others, and in particular ignored the three large bedrooms intended for children (one for boys, one for girls, one nursery). It now looked better than it had in ages.

"Thank you. And now you're cooking for me?"

"This is what you want, isn't it? A housewife to cook and clean for you?" She kissed the top of his bald head. "Be honest. You like the idea of a traditional-role marriage, minus the existence of children underfoot."

"You know me too well." He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Is it my fault if you happen to be both an excellent cook and a fan of keeping things clean? I only wish to encourage you to perform the tasks at which you excel."

She laughed and swatted at his chest. "Let go of me. I have dinner to prepare."

They talked throughout dinner, though not much as his head was still pounding despite the earlier headache potion.

They went to bed early, both exhausted. Upon climbing under the covers, Kingsley stripped off the pajama bottoms and undershirt.

"Sleep naked with me?" he requested. He looked so earnest she had to laugh.

"Why? So you can have your way with me?"

"Because I love the feeling of your skin against mine. I love your body."

"Fine. But no sex. I'm not in the mood." Despite her words, she knew that it wouldn't take much to get her in the mood... though neither could be sure she wouldn't panic and plead with him to stop instead. She slipped her nightgown over her head and used her wand to send it to the laundry hamper. She then did the same to his clothes, which he'd dropped to the floor.

"You know, Kingsley, if you want me to regularly cook and clean for you, you could pay me. That way, I'd have a job, and you'd have decent meals and a floor you can actually see." She snuggled up against him under the covers. She had to admit, sleeping starkers beside him would be a nice change, a throwback to the way things were when they only had sex while away for the weekend or at his place. She threw one leg over the top of his and placed her hand on the center of his chest, right over the soft dark hair there, and rested her cheek against his pectoral. He had one hand on her lower back, which he then ran up and down her spine in the way he knew she liked. He put his other hand over hers upon his chest.

"If you were my wife, I'd pay for everything."

"If I were your wife, you wouldn't be able to afford to pay for anything. They would run you out of the Ministry if word got out you'd married me, especially the Prophet reports that Hestia is expecting your heir."

"Heir." He shook his head. "Hardly an heir. The forever result of a temporary lapse in judgment." He groaned as if in pain and closed his eyes. "What if it's mine? I can't see myself as much of a father."

"You're good with Teddy." She cuddled closer to him, leaving no space between them. "Why have you always been against having children?"

"I haven't always." He kissed her forehead. "I wonder how my parents will react. If it's mine."

"Hestia said they don't like me."

"Don't be upset." He tightened his grip around her. "They didn't like her either."

"Did they meet her?"

"Yes, more than once."

Andromeda's face burned with the heat of jealousy. He'd never offered to introduce _her_ to his parents. "And they hated her?"

"Of course they did. Her mother is a Muggleborn. In their eyes, she's a half-blood."

Now _this_ was interesting. Andromeda knew Kingsley's parents were purebloods, both members of the Sacred 28, and they'd initially been supporters of Voldemort, but they'd rescinded their support and, eventually, left the country when he rose to power the first time, as it became clear that Muggleborn eradication and a takeover of the Muggle world were among his goals, and the Shacklebolts could not abide such violence and extremism. But to have hated his girlfriend because she was - by some considerations - a half-blood?

"Why do they hate me? I'm not a half-blood."

"No, but your daughter was. Just as they wouldn't want to see me married to a Muggleborn, they think your having had a child with one is an abomination, and therefore don't wish to see me with you."

"You've spoken to them about this?"

"They write me. I respond. There's a reason they don't visit."

This was intriguing. They'd talked about his parents on multiple occasions over the years, but the focus was always on the past, on his childhood, on the first war. She'd assumed they'd given up on their blood purity views and simply didn't come to the UK much because it was a long trip from Nigeria, where his mother's side was from (his parents met at Hogwarts).

"Do they want you to have children?"

"Of course." He sighed. "While there are other Adeyemis, I'm the last in the Shacklebolt line."

"Is that why you don't want...?"

"I don't want to talk about it." He kissed her forehead again, reached for his wand, and flicked it with a "Nox" to douse the lights. "Goodnight, woman."

"Call me woman one more time..."

Monday

Malfoy Manor

"Mother misses you." Draco nodded his thanks at the house-elf who'd just brought them tea. "Sugar?"

"Do you have Irish whisky?"

"No." His face told her he was not amused by the request. She half-smiled.

"Then sugar is fine."

He passed it to her before sitting back in his chair. They were in the library. He was wearing a simple white button-down collared shirt and gray trousers, his long hair pulled into a low ponytail. He greatly resembled his father at that age.

"If she misses me, why won't she speak to me? I've tried several times to contact her by Floo and in person. She closed herself off to the Floo Network and won't answer the door when I knock."

"She's embarrassed. According to what she told Hermione, she said some terrible things to you. Biscuit?"

"Yes, thank you." She took one and nibbled the corner. Malted milk. Very good. "I said terrible things to her, too."

"She feels those were deserved. She shouldn't have another child; you were right. She could die. I don't know why she told Snape she wants one."

 _I do,_ thought Andromeda, but she wasn't about to enlighten her nephew about his mother's scandalous dreams.

"She said she told you you're an addict and a prostitute. And a bad mother."

"Those things are all true."

"They're not!" He set his mug down and turned toward her, looking hurt on her behalf. "You're _not_ an addict. Not anymore. You're recovered."

Andromeda smiled. The boy was sweet, much more so than she ever would have thought given the very negative things she'd heard about him before they met.

"Recovering, not recovered. There's a difference. I'll never be fully recovered. I'll always be an addict. I'll either be an addict who's using or an addict who's clean, but never not an addict."

"Yes, well..." He bristled at this, but did not argue. "You're not a prostitute."

"No, not at the moment."

"And how can you be a terrible mother? You're not a mother anymore, since Nymphadora died. You're just a grandmother."

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but reminding her of this did quite the opposite.

"Just as I'll always be an addict, I'll always be a mother," Andromeda said softly, staring down at the hot liquid in her mug. "The death of my daughter does not change that. But perhaps your mother should have accused me of being a terrible grandmother instead."

"She's not perfect either." Now he was the one staring uncomfortably down into the contents of his cup. "I love my mother, but she has faults. After Father was executed, she couldn't even feed or bathe herself. I was mourning the loss of my father and the death of one of my best friends, and the ends of most of my other friendships, and I had to grieve alone because she couldn't function. It was Hermione's idea to get Snape over here to help her. He picked her up and placed her in the shower and washed her hair with her nightgown still on, and he took away her wand and razor to keep her from hurting herself, and he practically force-fed her."

"Oh?" Andromeda sipped her tea. While Narcissa had confessed to having struggled after Lucius' death, she hadn't share the extent of it with her sister. Had she hurt herself with the razor? Was that why he took it? Andromeda knew Cissy had tried to burn off the Dark Mark, that was the reason for the scars on her forearm, but was there more to it? Were Andromeda and Bellatrix not the only Black sisters with a history of self-mutilation?

(Whether the answer was yes or no, Andromeda blamed Mother. And Father. But mostly Mother.)

"And when I was a child, she and my father were always all over each other. It was revolting. She once snogged my friend - _former_ friend - Blaise's mother at a party, and they didn't always remember to lock the door to whichever room they were in first. I walked in on... on... let's just say I saw my father's bare arse once, and more of my mother's thighs and chest than I ever needed to."

Andromeda barked a laugh because she couldn't help it, and Draco had to smile too.

"I'm so sorry, love," she said with false sincerity. "What a traumatic childhood you must have had, surrounded by all that revolting parental love."

"They could have kept that 'parental love' confined to the bedroom like normal parents!"

"If you're keeping your love confined to the bedroom, Draco, I'm afraid you're missing out on a lot of potentially-"

"I don't need sex advice from my aunt!" He covered his face, mortified by the mere thought. "That's another thing my mother does that's... not ideal. She gives unsolicited advice about sex. To both me and Hermione. We do not need it!"

"If you think sex should be confined to the bedroom, perhaps you _do_ need-"

"No!" He dropped his hands. His cheeks were bright pink, Teddy's favorite color. "Please, thanks, but no thank you."

"I appreciate your invitation today, Draco." She sipped the tea. Earl Grey. "I miss your mother too, but I don't know how to get her to listen to me. I want to apologize."

"And I want you to apologize. Just as I want her to apologize. Not only because I think your fight is stupid, but because Hermione can't be her best friend and confidant forever. She said if she hears one more thing about Snape in the bedroom she's going to hex her ears straight off her head. Seriously, what is _wrong_ with the two of you? You're far too open."

"That's what makes me an ideal prostitute," Andromeda deadpanned, unable to curb the words before they left her lips. She caught the horrified look on her nephew's face as the exchange registered and almost wished Kingsley had been there to witness (they had the same sense of humor.) "Oh, Draco, I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"You, my mother, and Aunt Bella are so alike in some ways it's scary."

"Bella would have been amused by my quip," admitted Andromeda, almost _(almost!)_ missing her older sister for just a second. She, too, shared the inappropriate sense of humor Andromeda and Kingsley had in common. _Fuck,_ why couldn't the woman have defected during that Final Battle like Narcissa did, instead of murdering her own bloody niece?! Andromeda shook her head as if she could literally shake the thought straight out of it. She hated imagining her daughter's death. She still saw it in her nightmares semi-regularly; she didn't need to envision it while awake, too.

"Please, try again to talk to Mother. And I'll talk to her, too. You need to make up. You need each other."

"I agree." Andromeda reached for a second biscuit. "We're two side of the same sickle."

Tuesday Evening

A Muggle Restaurant Near St. Mungo's

"What are you in the mood for?" Andromeda asked, peering over the menu at Kingsley. They'd intended to go to the one wizarding restaurant near the hospital, but upon entering saw Rita Skeeter and her latest beau waiting for a table and thought better of it. They ended up at an intimate Italian establishment instead, which suited both just fine.

"They have a rabbit lollipop with proscuitto under the canapes." Kingsley tapped the selection with his index finger. "I haven't had rabbit in years."

"No thank you on the rabbit. Sorry, but they're too fluffy and sweet to end up on a plate."

"You don't eat fluffy, sweet things?"

"No, love."

"I do. And of all the fluffy, sweet things I've sampled lately, you're my favorite."

"I am not now, nor have I ever been, fluffy." She shot him a sharp look, but there was a twinkle in her eye, and he smirked in response.

"How about the tuna tartare instead?"

"That would be fine." Smiling, she unrolled her cloth napkin and set it in her lap. "You know, while I loved the ice cream dinner we shared on our first date, every once in awhile I miss eating like this, the way I did as a child..."

"Once in awhile," he agreed. "Me, too. But I prefer your cooking to that of the finest Michelin chefs."

Her cheeks went slightly pink with this compliment, as she knew it was genuine, though she couldn't help deflecting.

"That's because your palette is unrefined; my cooking's certainly not that good. But regardless of who's playing chef, I'm happier with a stew or shepherds pie or butter chicken."

"Butter chicken? No thanks. Too spicy."

"Very funny." But she didn't mind him teasing her. They'd been getting along particularly well over the last couple of days since she'd shared with him the diagnostic Hestia left behind, odd, as that might have meant the end for other couples. Normal couples.

They were not a normal couple.

That night, while getting ready for bed, he pointed out that she'd yet again put herself down over dinner.

"What do you mean?" She pulled off her dress, a short black simple one perfect for such occasions as a night out to dinner with the Minister for Magic. At least, that's what she'd thought when she wore it on their third official date. The thin shoulder straps had both broken when he'd hurried to take if off her later, but she'd mended them easily enough.

"When I complimented your cooking, you said you're not that good. But you are. Your cooking _is_ that good. You are a good cook. An excellent one. And you do it all the time. I tell you I love your body, you tell me your breasts are too small or you're gaining weight. I tell you that you're beautiful and you say you look like a less-attractive Bellatrix." He was dressed like a Muggle today, having spent the morning trying to fit in at a cricket practice alongside the Prime Minister earlier in the day (over the weekend, England would be playing the West Indies). He tossed his shirt in the laundry hamper without prompting.

"You give me too much credit, that's why. I'm not an excellent cook, I'm not beautiful, I don't have an enviable figure..." She hung her dress and turned to face him. She was wearing only a bra and knickers, and she felt herself blush as he hungry gaze traveled up and down her body.

"When we get into bed tonight, I am going to list for you all that I love about you, and then you shall do the same."

"You want me to spend all night listing what I love about you?"

"No." He unbuttoned the fly on his trousers. "I want you to tell me all the things you love about _you._ I know you can think of at least a few. Didn't Healer Smelthwick make you list your positive qualities in a letter to yourself?"

"Yes," confirmed Andromeda. She reached back to unclasp her bra. "But it took me days to come up with the requested ten, and I'm not sure I can remember most of them now."

"Come here." He knelt in the center of the bed, facing her. He wore only his undershorts. She slung her bra over the back of his chair; it could not be washed in the regular laundry, much like her cocktail dress. Feeling suddenly shy, she crossed her arms across her chest, hiding it from sight.

"No. I need to find my nightdress. Where did it end up the other night?"

"Come here."

This time she obliged, but she did not lower her hands. She knelt before him on the bed, both high on their knees, facing each other.

"What."

"I love your tenacity. Your ability to manipulate people and situations. Your dark and sardonic sense of humor. Your love for Nymphadora and Teddy. Your ability to remain calm under pressure... most of the time. The fact that you were tortured by Death Eaters for information during the war and gave them absolutely nothing, despite how painful and terrifying that must have been."

"It was," she admitted with a shudder. "I'd never been so frightened."

He brushed a tendril of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I love the way you take care of me, especially when I have a headache or have had a difficult day. I love coming home to you."

"Stop." She couldn't look at him. Not in the eye. There was sincerity there, and adoration, respect... and lust... and the combination was too much for her. She felt her own eyes filling with tears. He continued.

"I love that you rejected your family's blood supremacy and never wavered in that, despite how difficult so much of your life was. You never crawled back to them to beg for money and forgiveness. You never considered compromising your values to reconcile with them. You rejected that viewpoint and belief system and raised a daughter who did as well. What you said to Narcissa about Draco joining the Death Eaters while Tonks became an Auror hurt her feelings, but it was true."

"Even with her abilities as a Metamorph, I never wanted her to feel superior to others on account of who she was, or what was in her blood."

He gently took hold of her wrists and lowered her arms before leaning forward to kiss her. "She told me once, when we were working together, that you and she saw Narcissa and Lucius in Hogsmeade with Draco when he was a baby. She said she asked if that was your sister upon hearing someone say her name, and then she asked why you were estranged..."

"She told you about that?" Andromeda shifted closer to him until they were chest-to-chest. She let him wrap his arms around her, though she kept her down by her sides.

"She said you told her that your family believed in the importance of blood purity, and that they believed a daughter's worth was tied to the worth of the husband they could land for her. She said you wanted her to know that being the child of a witch and a wizard did not make her any better than any other student at Hogwarts, or anywhere else for that matter, and that what was in her mind was always more important than what was between her legs. You told her the way she treated people mattered more than anything else, and to remember to treat everyone equally, be they the Headmaster or a half-blood, a Hufflepuff, or a house-elf, as all are of equal worth."

Andromeda flushed. That conversation had been held about twenty years ago, before her daughter headed to Hogwarts.

"She told you all this?"

"During one of our first conversations."

"She told you all this during one of your _first_ conversations?" Andromeda pulled back a bit to look at him.

"Yes. When I asked why she wanted to become an Auror. She said she wanted to ensure we had a fair and just society in which everyone - Headmasters, half-bloods, Hufflepuffs, and house-elves - were treated fairly and given equal worth." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "As an aside, nice alliteration. Poetic."

"I've always had a way with words." She shrugged. "Healer Smelthwick said I could be a writer, but let's be honest, no one would want to read anything I'd-"

"Don't do that!" He grabbed her by the upper arms, twisted them, and pinned her to her back on the bed. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"What?"

"Smelthwick said you could be a writer? That's excellent. But don't follow that statement by telling me you can't or shouldn't or aren't capable." He kissed her again, a long, deep kiss this time. Upon pulling away, he flopped to his back beside her and pulled her to him. With a flick of his wand hand, the blankets were on top of them rather than under. "Tell me something you love about yourself."

"I... I can't think of anything."

"Yes, you can." He said it in the tone he used during meetings, when he needed those in the room he wanted an answer _yesterday._ She fumbled for something positive.

"I'm alright at crossword puzzles."

"Something else!"

"I... I... I have a nice arse. For my age."

"Yes, you do." He squeezed it in confirmation. "Don't lessen the weight of the statement by adding the stipulation to the end. Now, something else."

"I still have all of my natural teeth."

He laughed. "Fine. Something not physical."

"I'm great in bed."

"That's physical, though I agree." He rolled partly on top of her, which commenced several minutes of snogging. Just as she was inching her fingers down to his groin to gauge his level of interest, he pulled away, stopping her. "Something _not_ physical."

"I... I don't know!"

"You can think of something."

"I was good at Charms."

"Good?"

"Brilliant. I achieved decent marks..."

"Decent?"

"The highest marks on my O.W.L.s the school had seen since Flitwick. But I cheated on History of Ma-"

"No. Leave it at 'the highest marks.' You're brilliant. What else?"

"I have to come up with more?" She closed her eyes, scrunched up her nose, and scuttled closer to him under the blankets. "I'm out of ideas."

"Do you remember the first time we went away together with Teddy? You insisted we had separate but adjoining rooms at an inn..."

"They weren't technically adjoining," she interjected. "You formed a door in the center of the wall separating our rooms after the matron had gone back downstairs."

"You did it because you didn't want Teddy to know we were sleeping together. You thought it would set a bad example."

"Now he sleeps _with_ us." She rolled her eyes. "Some example I'm setting these days."

"You were worried about taking him so far from home, because at the time his hair color was changing with increasing frequency, and he'd started to morph it into the bright colors without realizing he was doing so. You were worried. He was also struggling with accidental magic then, too. Making things explode when he cried..."

"I tried to keep him far away from Muggles just in case, but you had that meeting in Paris. You had to be away for several days and wanted us to come with you..."

"I'm glad you came with me." He brushed aside her hair to run his fingertips against the skin of her back, between both shoulder blades. If she were Meow-Meow, she'd be purring. "We had just taken him on the carousel near the Eiffel Tower. He was running and he fell. He scraped his knee and started to cry."

"His hair turned bright red and a glass water bottle set on the ground nearby exploded, surprising the Muggle woman who'd set it down to take a photograph."

"You scooped him up, fixed the hood of his shirt so it was covering his head, and rocked him. Do you remember how you got him to stop crying?"

"No." She placed her hand on Kingsley's abdomen and stared up at him. "How?"

"You told him the only cure for his injury was a kiss from his one true love. Then you said, because he's too small to have a one true love, the next best thing was a kiss from the one who loves him most. You kissed his little bleeding knee and whispered a healing charm against his skin immediately afterward, and he felt better. He stopped crying, his hair returned to normal..."

"And he still thinks if he has a boo-boo, I can kiss it and magically make it better."

"Because you can. And I love that."

"Kingsley," she whispered as her hand slid from his chest to cup his cheek. She guided him on top of her. "Let me list for you all of the things I love about you..."

Late Wednesday Afternoon

Andromeda's House

Kingsley had left work early as he had a mountain of paperwork to read and felt he could concentrate better at either his home or hers than he could in his office with people in and out all day, but he arrived at her house to find her in a tizzy.

"Send them a Patronus back!" demanded Andromeda furiously. "Tell them he is to return home right now! Not in a few days, not in a few _hours,_ but right bloody now!"

"I'll send it. In the interim, I've been meaning to ask you... I have to go to Barcelona on Friday afternoon and stay through Tuesday. Would you like to come?"

She was too into her tirade to consider his question.

"Who does Harry Potter think he is? He's the boy's _godfather,_ not his father! He thinks because he's the bloody Chosen One he can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants whenever and wherever and however he wants, but that's not the case! He's the 'Boy Who Lived,' not "the Boy Crowned King of the Wizarding World.' Of all the frustrating, infuriating, irritating things..."

Despite her owl requesting Teddy be home by lunchtime Wednesday, the boy had still not been returned, and what was worse - Harry had just sent a Patronus rudely informing Andromeda they'd be keeping him a few more days, until they felt he was ready to return.

"Send it now," she demanded. "Or I'll go to Grimmauld Place and get him, I swear I will!"

Kingsley knew this was mostly an empty threat, as she would no sooner return to that horrible house than she would set herself on fire, by he also knew that she was right to demand him back, thus he obliged. His silvery lynx disappeared, carrying with it an urgent message for Mr. and Mrs. Potter.

Minutes later, Harry stepped out of the fireplace, Teddy in his arms, followed by Ginny with the baby.

"Nana!" Teddy ran to her, throwing up his arms. She scooped him into a hug. Apparently he'd forgiven her for slapping him.

"I missed you, my Teddy." She peppered his face with kisses. "Did you miss me? What did you do all week?"

"A lot! I getted to sleep with Harry and Ginny and I didn't do any workbook and we went to Quidditch practice and a match and Honeydukes for Chocolate Frogs and I got a card with Hermione on it and ate lots of sweets plus ice cream and sticky toffee pudding and pizza two times and it was fun! But I missed you."

"Sounds like an exciting few days." She shot an annoyed look over his shoulder at the Potters. When they'd initially asked to take him, she'd made it clear he was to sleep alone and also that he had to do two pages in one of his workbooks each day, and she reminded them not to let him fill up on junk food. Apparently her requests had gone unheeded.

"Nana? I'm sorry I breaked the picture!" He leaned back to look at her. She kept an arm behind his back so he wouldn't fall. "I'm sorry I'm bad."

"You're not bad!" She squeezed him close, one hand on the back of his pink-haired head. "I'm sorry I slapped you." She kissed him again, set him down, and told him to head up to his room - Meow-Meow was up there and she needed some attention from her favorite human.

He said goodbye to Ginny, Harry, and baby James, and headed upstairs to find his kitty.

"Andromeda," Harry started, already clearly brimming with attitude, but Andromeda held up a hand to silence him.

"No. I'll speak, you'll listen. You are Teddy's godfather and that's a special relationship, but you are not his father. You do not tell me when he'll be home; I tell you. I said he couldn't go with you and you took him anyway. Then I wanted him home Sunday, but you said he wasn't ready to return. I allowed an extension to noon today, and you ignored that. It is not your place to-"

"You hit him! He was crying!" Harry's face contorted with anger, the anger he'd been trying to suppress for days in an attempt to hide his feelings from the boy. "I'll not leave him here to be abused by you! Bad enough I left him with you to be neglected while-"

"Harry," said Ginny softly, but he did not pay her any mind.

"I do not neglect him! He has never gone without food or shelter or love. I'd sooner die than let him suf-"

"You almost did! You almost died right there on the floor!" He indicated a spot near the fireplace. "With a needle in your arm while he was scared and had to go for help! If he hadn't gotten Kingsley, you would have died, and he would have suffered!"

This stung like a slap, but she steeled herself with a combination of Occlumency and natural resolve.

"That won't happen again, and I'm sorry it happened at all, but I cannot change the past. It's the future I'm concerned with. Going forward, if I say he cannot go with you, he cannot go. If I say he must be home by a certain time, he must be home by that time. If I say he has to clean his room, or do his workbook, or sleep alone, he-"

"Why should he learn to sleep alone?" snapped Harry. _"You_ haven't."

She drew her wand and might have hexed him into the next town had Kingsley not jumped up and over the couch and grabbed her wrist. He truly had the reflexes, speed, and grace of a panther. Which, she thought, was usually a good thing. But not now. Now when she wanted so badly to have sent a stinging spell or stunner in the young man's direction.

"Teddy is legally _my_ child and _I'll_ make the decisions when it comes to how he's raised. You can be a part of his life if you'd like to be, but only if you abide by my rules." She tossed her hair back. She'd stopped bothering to straighten it, especially now that it was growing out, and she was aware that the messy curls increased her resemblance to Bella, as did her jutted-up chin. Thanks to Legilimency, she could tell he thought the same. He sneered.

"Perhaps he shouldn't legally be your child, then."

She breathed in sharply. Not so long ago, both Kingsley and Narcissa had - on separate occasions - said the same thing to her, but this was the first time she truly felt afraid someone would try to take him away. Kingsley maintained his grip on her wand wrist, but repositioned his body so he was behind her, not beside. She felt his free hand gently settle upon her hip and knew he was trying to keep her calm. She took several deep breaths before continuing.

"When my Nymphadora rushed into battle, she left her son with me, in my care. I-"

"Because she thought she was coming right back!" Harry threw up his hands and laughed scornfully. "She thought they were both coming right back! I'm sure, if she thought she was going to _die,_ she'd have made better arrangements! I knew Tonks and Remus well enough to know they wouldn't have wanted their son raised by... by...-"

"Circe save him if he says 'an addict and a prostitute'," she muttered. Only Kingsley heard her, as Harry was shouting now.

"By a selfish, lazy, unemployed alcoholic slag who shags Death Eaters for drugs! Had they know, they'd have written wills leaving him to someone else! To me, to the Weasleys, to... to anyone with enough sense not to be passed out while he's sleeping or-"

"If you cannot respect me in my home, Harry Potter, you'll need to vacate my home," she said coldly, interrupting, without raising her voice. "This discussion is over."

He responded just as coldly, glaring at her with fury and disgust, as if staring down the Dark Lord himself.

"In that case, _Andromeda Tonks_ , this discussion may have to continue in front of the partial Wizengamot."

(The partial Wizengamot handled matters of family court.)

"Very well." She slipped free from Kingsley's grip and moved calmly to the fireplace, where she picked up and held out the Floo powder. "Good day, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter." When neither moved she gestured toward the hearth with her free hand. "That was your cue to go."

Harry stalked over, took a pinch of floo powder, and entered the fireplace. "Twelve Grimmauld Place!" He was gone with a whoosh.

"We'll talk about it at home," said Ginny. Her expression was unreadable. She was neither ready to apologize for her husband's behavior nor willing to outwardly support it. "I'm sure it won't end up in front of the Wizengamot."

She, too, took a pinch, and disappeared with the baby.

Kingsley went to Andromeda's side, placed the Floo powder container back on the mantle, and slipped his arms around her waist.

"So..." he said. "That went well."

Thursday

Mid-Morning

Still Mid-September

London

"You're seeking a... tutor?" The bony woman peered at Andromeda and Teddy over half-moon spectacles. She had never met a Metamorphmagus before and was intrigued. The boy looked normal enough, save for the bubblegum pink hair, but he was indeed a documented Metamorph.

"When Nymphadora, his mother, was small, it was a requirement. They were considered magical creatures then, and there was worry she - and others like her - were a danger to the Statute of Magical Secrecy. While I'm glad the laws we had then are no longer in place, I do think the same sort of tutor would be of great benefit to my grandson, but I don't know where to look. They're rare, and I cannot hire just anyone."

"Yes, yes, makes sense."

They were crowded into the small cubical of Honore Geldof in the Improper Use of Magic department. Andromeda, just as she had during that first meeting with Kingsley, had dressed with purpose that morning. This time, she wanted to look as witch-like - and yet meek - as possible, in a long, dowdy dark gray witch's robe with short-heeled black boots. She wore her glasses, little makeup, and only her wedding ring for jewelry, and put Teddy in a yellow jumper with navy blue shorts and knee socks with brand new white trainers. He hated the outfit, but he looked adorable. She had him bring a stuffed bunny and his handwriting workbook to keep him occupied. He didn't mind the workbook, but felt silly with the bunny.

"You'll look sweet with a bunny," she insisted. "Bring the bunny."

An hour after they arrived at the Ministry, they left with contact information for three different potential tutors. Next stop, St. Mungo's.

"Do I still have to look sweet?" asked Teddy, tugging at his collar with one hand, dragging the bunny behind him by an ear with the other.

"Yes. Now hug that bunny, and be very polite, and... make your hair more... natural." She waited as he scrunched up his nose and went from pink spikes to medium brown curls. "Perfect."

They had an appointment with her former boss.

"...So you see, sir, Teddy needs help, more than I can provide, and I don't know where to turn. I know you and I left things on a sour note..." She glanced at her grandson, who was on the floor on his tummy, practicing uppercase Js with the bunny beside him. "But I thought if anyone could know where and how to find help this sweet boy, it would be you, sir." She blinked her eyes several times, letting her eyes water as if blinking back tears. She even threw in a sniffle. "it's been very difficult over these last several months. I can't find another job, my savings are gone, and I know he needs therapy - not only because of this past year, but with losing his parents, getting older now, starting to understand - it's been... stressful."

"Please, don't cry, Mrs. Tonks." Healer Kerrigan handed her a tissue. "I am not without sympathy. The poor lad has lost so much, and with the added difficulties of being a Metamorphmagus and your... issues... my heart goes out to him. But surely the Minister can..."

"Oh, I can't ask him! He's done so much for me already, and given how detrimental to his career our relationship has already been, and with less than two years until the next election, I wouldn't be surprised if he never wants to see me again, if for no other reason than self-preservation, and who could blame him?"

Teddy looked up at his grandmother and gave an exaggerated eye roll. Even at only five years and five months old, he could tell she was putting the man on, playing to his emotions, manipulating him in traditional Slytherin fashion.

Thankfully, Healer Kerrigan was not at intuitive as the boy. Or maybe a woman's tears just had a greater impact on him.

"There is a Healer who worked at the facility you were in who previously specialized in working with wizarding children with emotional or behavioral difficulties or past trauma. She spent a number of years in orphanages providing care for those whose parents were either gone or unable to care for them. I am certain she could be persuaded to give you... an hour per week?"

Andromeda glanced at Teddy. His eyes met hers. He sighed.

"Oh, I'm so sad without my mummy and daddy," he said, his eyes wide and bright blue. He hugged the bunny to his chest. "It makes me want to change hair color in front of Muggles and make things explode on accident, then I have to hide my magic and _that_ makes my tummy hurt."

"I just hope he won't end up an Obscurial," tutted Andromeda, fully intending to buy the boy as much junk at Honeydukes as his little heart desired if this worked. "I've read about what happens when children suppress their magic... so many of them don't make it to adulthood... but yes, sir, an hour a week would be most helpful... much better than nothing..."

"Perhaps three hours per week? She does group therapy sessions at the facility on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, but I could have another Healer cover and send her to your home instead."

"Group therapy sessions?" Shit, thought Andromeda. Please don't be...

"Healer Artemisia Bonham. I believe you and she have met?"

 _I fucked her husband,_ Andromeda didn't answer. "She's... highly skilled at working with children like Teddy?"

"The best we have!"

"Lovely."

 _Fuck._

"As for payment..."

Andromeda clenched her teeth, hoping he wouldn't suggest she come by later to settle the bill or something equally revolting.

"What if you worked here part-time until it's paid off? While I cannot give you access to restricted areas due to the..." He dropped his voice. "Theft issue..." Back to normal volume. "You did a fine job of directing patients and filing paperwork. Could you work the desk Thursdays through Saturdays? Noon to eight. Our girl put in her notice and we've not found a replacement yet. I'll need you to start in two weeks."

"Yes, of course, Healer Kerrigan. I'd be happy to. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this. How much Teddy and I both appreciate this." Merlin, how she hated humbling herself to anyone; she felt like a bloody house-elf, bowing its way out of the master's room just grateful to have a task. "Thank you, sir."

He stood and put out his hand. She shook it. Thank bloody Merlin. Now all she had to do was make up with Narcissa so she could convince the woman to sit for him on those days. Unless Draco was willing. (She'd not be asking Potter.)

"Thank you, sir."

"And I'll owl you about when Healer Bonham can start, but I would assume this coming Monday."

"Wonderful, sir, thank you." She shook his hand again and motioned for Teddy to get up. "Come along, love. Say goodbye and thank you to Healer Kerrigan, please."

"Goodbye and thank you, Healer Kerrigan!" Teddy said obediently, clutching his workbook and bunny to his chest.

The moment they were back outside, she swooped him into a hug and twirled him around.

"My sweet little actor! Nice touch with the bit about your mummy and dad."

"I want Chocolate Frogs," he replied. How had he known she was thinking of Honeydukes?

Maybe her little Metamorph inherited a touch of Legilimency, too.

Dawn

Friday

"Are there any Chocolate Frogs left?" Kingsley murmured as he rolled from his back to his side. He drew Andromeda closer. They were in bed and though she had a good two or three more hours before Teddy would be up and about, he had an early breakfast at Madam Puddifoots with Madam Maxime and a representative from the French Ministry before a mid-morning meeting with Minerva at Hogwarts. Durmstrang wanted to bring back the Triwizard Tournament. Maxime and McGonagall were not keen on the idea.

"You want Chocolate Frogs for breakfast, do you?"

"Unless you want to get up and cook for me." He snuggled against her side, tossing his left leg across both of hers, and crept closer as he spoke until his body was covering hers. "Two eggs, fried, toast, sausages, beans, pumpkin juice, coffee..."

"I'm not a waitress here to take your order. Now get the fuck off me so I can sleep." But she didn't mind his weight on top of hers, and when he tried to obey her command, she wrapped her arms around him and held on. "Aren't you going out for breakfast?"

"At Madam Puddifoots. That doesn't count."

"You want eggs?"

"And toast and beans and saus-"

"You're as bad as the boy." She jerked her head to the right, where Teddy was snoring beside them with the cat at his feet. "Don't you males ever stop thinking about food?"

"We're growing boys."

She scoffed. "You are _not_ a growing boy."

"I could be. Let's share a shower."

She tried to stifle her laughter for fear of waking Teddy. "Get off me," she whispered. "We'll take a quick shower and I'll cook for you."

He was out of bed and in the loo in a flash.

While she sudsed up his chest, he worked shampoo through her hair, and they talked.

"Draco said Narcissa wants to reconcile but she still won't answer the door when I knock. If this goes on much longer, I'll stop wanting to apologize and start dreaming up ways to hurt her as punishment for hurting me."

"Nice." He tipped up her chin and guided her head back under the stream of water, to rinse. "And how will you hurt her?"

"I've been giving it a lot of thought, and unfortunately the most hurt any woman has ever caused her was when that bitch in the apothecary revealed she'd had an affair with her husband."

"So you need to reveal an affair with her husband?"

"Yes." Andromeda sighed dramatically. "But as I was never fortunate enough to sleep with Lucius, I suppose I'll have to settle for shagging Severus, which, honestly, just seems like more of a punishment for me."

His booming laugh echoed off the walls of the shower.

"Such a sacrifice you'd have to make, shagging Severus to hurt Narcissa. You poor woman. Tell me, do you reckon she'll get back at you by jumping into bed with me? I'm only asking because, if so, I'd like to request she bring the collar."

Andromeda snickered. "She thinks her sex like with Lucius was something special because they did it all over the Manor, on an almost nightly basis, and with a decent variation in regards to position, but if she knew the things we've done her head would spin."

"You've never worn a dog collar for me. I don't think she's as vanilla as you like to claim."

"She once snogged a witch at a party and thinks that's both the height of kink and the thing of scandals. Can you imagine how she'd react if I told her about our weekend in Amsterdam?"

"That's how you should punish her." He kissed her briefly, then lightly took her lower lip between his teeth, barely biting before pulling away. "Tell her, in detail, about Amsterdam."

"We could do that again." Andromeda continued to rub soap over him, but now her hand was creeping downward... and his body was responding.

"I doubt that barmaid is still working there, woman."

"I meant go away together... someplace outside the UK... with the express purpose of having adult fun for three days straight without leaving our hotel or inn or wherever we end up staying." She dropped the soap and took his semi-hard shaft in her hand instead. "And don't call me woman."

"Make up with your sister between now and Halloween so she'll take Teddy. We'll go away that weekend." He groaned as she squeezed his cock. "It's been six months since we've been together properly, you know."

"Hm?" She ran her hand up and down, twisting lightly at the head, eliciting a second groan. "What do you mean?"

"I mean aside from those brief moments in the facility, I haven't been inside you since early April. Mid-April at latest."

"That's five months, not six." She applied more pressure and quickened her pace. If she got him off this way, they wouldn't have to continue the conversation. Not now, anyway. "Do you want me to suck you?"

"No." He stepped forward, pinning her body between his and the smooth tiled wall. "I need more than that. I need you."

"I... I..." Her hand left his erection and slid up his soapy body to his shoulder, as her other hand did the same. She held him as he kissed and sucked her neck, but inside she felt inexplicable panic rising. "I cant."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. I just... can't."

He retreated and for a second she was sure he'd be angry. She shut her eyes tightly and tensed, almost as if expecting a slap, but when she opened her eyes she saw only concern etched across his face.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Neither do I," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Are you afraid of me, Andromeda?"

"No!" She couldn't believe he'd even asked. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"When I stepped back, you flinched."

"I... I don't know why." She bit her lip and looked away. "My parents used to hit us sometimes, mostly for embarrassing them when we were out. We'd get home and... We were spoilt, we truly were, but Circe save us if we didn't present well in public."

"Has a man ever hit you?"

She shrugged.

"Andromeda?"

"Let's just... let me make you feel good, Kingsley." Her fingertips ghosted up his twitching cock, toward his dangly bits. She gently cupped one. "There are things you like that I haven't done in six months..."

"But we'll need to talk about this lat... ohhh..." He moaned as she applied pressure to his left testicle. He could concentrate on continuing the conversation much better when all of the blood flow wasn't rapidly draining from his brain, headed south.

She captured his lips with hers, and, just as she'd hoped, that ended the discussion... and their shower ended without intercourse, though both were contentedly satisfied.

Midnight on the beach in Barcelona

20 September, 2003

Saturday

Andromeda took a deep breath, inhaling the sea air, as Kingsley took sleeping Teddy from her arms.

"Thanks." She glanced back at the reflection of the moonlight on the sea. "He was getting heavy."

It did not take long to walk back to their hotel. The lobby was quiet and they met no one in the elevator or halls, thus they were able to get the boy into the room without waking him. Kingsley set him on the small transfigured bed beside theirs and she carefully changed him into pajamas. He stirred and mumbled in his sleep, but did not open his eyes.

"I need to shower the salt water from my sunburn," whispered Andromeda, once the boy was tucked in safe and sound. She smiled at Kingsley, who was settled on the settee, watching her. "Join me?"

"I'd rather a bath." He stood, pulled off his undershirt, and stretched. "Jacuzzi jets are one of Muggles greatest inventions."

Soon enough they were in the bubbling tub, he with his back to the jets, her settled in front of him. He enveloped her in his arms and she sighed.

"What if that baby is yours, Kingsley? I know you don't want to think about it, but..."

"As I told her before, I'll provide financially."

"And that's all?" She placed her hands on top of his. "You're wonderful with Teddy. You'd be a good father."

"As I've told you repeatedly, and as I told Hestia too, I do not want children."

"I know. And you won't tell me why. But love, if she has that baby and it's yours, you'll have a child whether you want children or not. Do you genuinely think you'll be able to let it go through life not knowing you at all? Thinking of you as a person who only cares enough to send a few galleons each month, but not enough to take her to a Quidditch match or teach him to tie a tie?"

"I don't know how to tie a tie." Kingsley tipped his head back to rest against the wall. "When I have to wear Muggle suits, you tie my ties."

"You know that's not the point."

"And you know as well as I that I won't be able to 'just send galleons,' despite what I told Hestia both two-and-a-half years ago and earlier this week."

"You spoke with her earlier this week?" Andromeda craned her neck to look at him, but his head was still back and his eyes were closed. He hadn't told her that.

"Not exactly." He repositioned her so she was again settled against him. She turned her head to rest her cheek on his chest. He heaved a deep, pained sigh. "I sent an inter-office memo."

"You didn't!"

"I can't speak with her in person. Not yet. The last time I saw her, she begged me..."

"She begged you?" She turned her entire body this time, repositioning so that her legs were on either side of his, balanced atop his thighs. "She begged you for what?"

"To leave you. To reconcile. I said I wasn't interested, that our... _encounter..._ over the summer had been a mistake, and she sobbed into my robes, imploring me to reconsider; I said I would not. Then she took several days off because, according to my secretary, she couldn't face me. I had no way of knowing she was pregnant at the time. I had her transferred the following week."

"To head that new division?"

"Yes." He lifted his lids, finally, and locked eyes with her. "The move was already in the making, but I sped it up by about six months. The department is still being formed." He pressed his fingertips to his temples, a sure sign a headache could be on the horizon. She batted his hands out of the way and applied pressure for him, the way he liked.

"Let me help you. If the baby is yours, I'll help you with it. It could be like Hermione's parents. They are divorced with split custody of her younger siblings. Hestia could have the child during the week and at Christmas, you can take it weekends and for lesser holidays. Something like that."

"Or I can send money and hope for the best."

She shook her head.

"You can't have a child and not care for it, Kingsley." She took his chin in her hand, leaned forward, and kissed him. "You'll hate yourself."

"I already do." He encouraged her to turn back around, the way she'd been before. They sat in silence for several minutes, simply soaking in the soothing jacuzzi tub. It was, indeed, an excellent Muggle invention. Warm. Relaxing. Like a great shower and a professional massage combined. She could get used to this. She closed her eyes and concentrated on synching her breathing to his, letting herself inhale when she felt his chest inflate, and exhale when he did. In the next room, Teddy was snoring lightly, just loud enough to for the sound to travel through the cracked door. Despite her difficulties, there was a lot she had loved about being a mother. It was never easy, but it was often rewarding beyond measure. She pictured Nymphadora, around Teddy's age, the first time she and Ted took her swimming at a local pool. She was more coordinated in the water than she was on land, a natural swimmer. That night, before bed, she told her mummy she wanted to be a mermaid when she grew up.

"With your abilities," Andromeda had said, tugging a strand of her forest green hair, "You just might manage it!"

Just as Andromeda was drifting off to sleep in the tub, Kingsley nudged her.

"There is one silver lining," he said.

"Hm?" She did not open her eyes. "What's that?"

"For Teddy. It the child is a boy, it will be almost as if he's getting a brother."

* * *

 **A/N:**

A lot of ground to cover in this chapter as we're getting close to the home stretch! Please let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading!

Also, thanks to Chapter 21 reviewers: **clarasnotlikely** (happy to see you back!), **emrldapplejuice, sassanech, somethingnew2016, kalilje, FrancineHibiscus, Kat,** and **Harry Hobbit. :)**

 **-AL**


	23. Part Two: Week 10

**Trigger Warning:**

I don't usually put these mid-fic, but this one includes a short slightly graphic flashback in which Andromeda injects drugs and contemplates suicide, which may be upsetting to some readers. It's toward the end - skip over anything in italics in the scene that takes place on Sunday.

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

 **END OF WEEK TEN**

Another Saturday night at the Tonks house. Andromeda was doing the crossword puzzle in bed beside Kingsley, who was reading - a book this time, not paperwork. Teddy was asleep between them, as the battle to keep him in his own bed seemed to be losing one. She insisted he start off and end up in his room, though, so every night she read him stories and tucked him in, and though they let him come in later and curl up with them if he couldn't sleep, once they couple were ready to retire for the evening, she returned him.

"Healer Smelthwick is coming tomorrow?" asked Andromeda, though she knew the answer.

"Yes." He licked his thumb and forefinger before turning the page. He was deep into the fourth novel in a mystery series featuring a half-blood wizard who uses Muggle technology to help him solve magical cases. The premise fascinated Kingsley, though he often paused to ask Andromeda questions like, "Do they really have a device that toasts bread for you?" or "Cyanide - that's more or less a poison potion, yes?"

"I need a twelve letter term word for 'ferroequinologist.' Third letter: a. Last two letters: e, r." She sucked on the end of her quill. Teddy had been using (and losing) her pencils for his workbooks and her only pen was out of ink, leaving her to fill in words the old-fashioned way. "What's a bloody ferroequinologist?"

"Person interested in trains," he said offhandedly, not tearing his eyes from the page. He was in the middle of a scene in which the half-blood detective was informing the accused that they had his DNA at the scene. Kingsley frowned, trying to remember what DNA was. Something to do with hair and fingerprints, right?

"Ah, trainspotter!" She quickly added one letter to each empty box in the row. "And DNA has to do with our genetic makeup, which can indeed be discerned from a person's hair, thus tying a suspect to the crime scene."

He looked to her in surprise.

"You were thinking so loudly I could hear you," she explained with a shrug. "I don't know much about DNA but the last movie Ted and I saw together at the cinema, it was called Gattaca, it had to do with DNA and genetic identity. Confusing film, utterly ridiculous premise, didn't care for it overall... but the war was... You-Know-Who was back, and Nymphadora was pregnant, and we knew it was only a matter of time before Ted would have to go on the run, so it was sort of a 'one last date' situation and there wasn't much playing..." She dipped her quill in the ink and moved onto the next crossword clue. "'Seven letters, small gold-grabbing creature.' Well, that's an easy one, isn't it? Niffler."

"I've never been to a movie." Kingsley returned to his book, but Andromeda set hers down.

"What, never?"

"No, never. I am familiar with the concept, of course, and I've been to the theatre, so..."

"We should see a movie."

He curled his lip, clearly not keen on the idea. "Will I enjoy it?"

"How should I know?" She took off her glasses and placed them beside her on the bedside table with her quill and ink. Niffler had been the last clue. "I'm a Legilimens, not a Seer. But you won't know what you like if you never experience new things."

A devilish grin grew across his face. "I believe I said the same to you in Amsterdam."

"And we both know how well _that_ turned out." She returned the smile. He was leaning across the bed to kiss her when Teddy stirred in his sleep, reminding them of his presence.

"For how long do we intend to allow this?" He gestured to the boy, who was creating an unwelcome barrier between them.

"He's in therapy now. I'm counting on the Healer to fix him."

"The Healer who hates you?" He placed his open book down in his lap and reached for the bookmark on the side table. "She's held a grudge against you for this long; I can't imagine her getting over it simply because the child needs help."

Andromeda sighed. "I know you cannot _possibly_ be judging me for having had sex with a married man, Kingsley, considering the seven years you spent in the bed of-"

"Not judging!" He held up his hands as if in surrender. "And it was six years, four months."

"Pardon me. Six years, four months. The six years, for months you spent in the bed of a married woman." She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she wasn't really annoyed with him. He leaned over to press a kiss to her temple. Smiling, she slipped from the sheets, stood, and stretched before reaching down to lift Teddy into her arms. "I'll take him back to his room now."

After Teddy was tucked in and snoring lightly with his arms wrapped around an old bear that had been Nymphadora's, Andromeda returned to bed beside Kingsley, who'd set down his book. She crawled up beside him from the bottom of the bed and kissed his bare shoulder. He was wearing only pajama bottoms while she was sleeping in an oversized t-shirt, as it was warm for late September.

"Why did you spend six years, four months with a married woman, Kingsley?" She climbed under the covers. He was still sitting up against the headboard so she did the same, but he put an around around her, pulling her to him.

"I was in no mood for another serious relationship, but at the same time, I couldn't continue as I'd been: serial dating and shagging my way around the United Kingdom." He reached for his wand to Nox the light. "She seemed safe."

"I met her once. Nymphadora invited her to lunch with us after she became an Auror, because they worked together. I visited her at the Ministry to take her out for her birthday, as a surprise. Dora invited your Hestia too, but she declined."

"She's not 'my' Hestia."

"She was then, wasn't she?" She repositioned herself so her legs were slung over his lap and kissed his collarbone. "Around Valentine's Day, 1995."

He sighed. He did not like the direction of this conversation, discussing his exes (and his errors). "Not exactly. We had just started seeing each other, but were not exclusive for several months. And that's probably why she declined. She... she was not fond of Emmeline."

"Because you'd been fucking Emmeline for over half a decade? Did she know?"

"Yes, she did, and that was certainly part of what caused the animosity between them, yes."

"Were you still fucking her when you started seeing Hestia?"

He groaned. No, this was not a conversation he wanted to have. "For awhile, but I was up front about it. At first, with Hestia, I had no desire for exclusivity. Both she and Emmeline understood, as did the two other witches I was seeing during that period, though only Hestia knew about Emmeline."

Andromeda smiled and kissed his jaw. "Four at once? You cad. Why didn't Emmeline divorce her husband?"

"With her job being a potentially dangerous one, she was afraid he would use it to take their children away should she divorce him. He was not a decent man. He was an Unspeakable and I often wondered if she was afraid of him. He frequently belittled and degraded her, even in public, and he remarried not three months after she was killed by Death Eaters in '96. He was also outspokenly in favor of the Ministry takeover Voldemort orchestrated. By then their youngest was finally at Hogwarts, limiting his exposure to the man. He died during the war and her sister took the younger children into her care. Can't say I was sad to see his name among those lost."

"How many did they have? Children?"

"Four. Could we change the subject?"

"Why?" She put on a pout. "You know my entire sexual history now, in all its ugliness. Why shouldn't I be privy to yours?"

"Mine has its own ugliness." He pressed his lips to her forehead, closed his eyes, and hugged her. "I do not wish to relive the past. Suffice it to say, it was a completely inappropriate relationship. She was married, my superior in the Auror department, too old for me, and-"

"Too old for you?" Andromeda pulled back and swatted at his chest. "She was a year younger than I am!"

"You're too old for me, too." He tugged a strand of hair hanging down from her messy ponytail. "Is this gray? Looks like gray."

"You can fuck right off out of here." She tried to detangle herself from his grasp but he only held tighter, one arm around her legs, the other around her back, laughing. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, hand to Merlin..."

"It's alright. Gray's my favorite color. And I have an older woman fetish, just as you have a Minister for Magic fetish. Be honest, you were just as attracted to Fudge as you are to me. It's the position you fancy, not the man."

"The man isn't going to enjoy any more 'positions' with me if he continues talking like that," she said testily. This only widened his grin.

"You know all I have to do is turn on the charm and you'll melt for me faster than an ice cream cone on a hot summer's day in Barcelona." He squeezed her bare upper thigh under the fabric of the shirt. "I don't need Aquamenti to get you wet."

She placed her hand over his and removed it from her leg. "Ha! You couldn't get me wet if you threw me in a lake under a waterfall on a rainy April day."

"No?" He slipped a hand between her legs, touching her over the fabric of her knickers. "Explain this, then."

She couldn't suppress a gasp as he touched her in just the right way. Still, she refused to let him win.

"That does nothing for me, and you're lucky I can't reach my wand."

"Why? You know you're no match for me in a duel, witch."

She struggled to escape, but held her tighter and began tickling her side, making her giggle and spasm until she begged for mercy.

"Please, please, stop, I can't..." She smacked his bicep as he rolled them to the side, pinning her on her back, unrelenting with the tickling. From this position she managed to bring her knee up between his legs, applying just enough pressure against his groin to get his attention. "Tickle me again and you won't have to worry about having sex with another older woman again so long as you live... or younger ones, for that matter."

"How many times have I told you it's illegal to threaten the Minister for Magic, Andromeda Tonks? I'll have to arrest you. Take you in for questioning. Put you in front of the Wizengamot... Unless I come up with a suitable punishment right here. Perhaps we should bring back paddling and caning?"

"I'll threaten whomever I bloody well please, and I warn you, Shacklebolt - my threats are not empty ones. I sent you that knife stabbed into a pie for a reason."

"Keep running your mouth and I'll put you over my knee right here." He flipped them again, bringing himself to a seated position on the side of the bed with his feet on the floor, this time quickly moving her - like a ragdoll - so she was positioned across his lap.

"If you spank me, I'll bite you," she warned, but he noticed she wasn't exactly struggling anymore...

"Promise?" he asked. He brought his palm down against her bum, which, thanks to her shirt riding up, was covered only by her knickers. She yelped, though he hadn't done it hard. She thrust against the tops of his legs and he took this as permission to do so again, this time with a sharp _thwack_ that left a pink print on the expose part of her cheek.

"Say 'I will not threaten the Minister for Magic' and I'll let you up."

"Sod off," she spat, but she ground her pelvis against him again. "I said I'll threaten whomever I bloody well please and I damn well meant it."

 _Thwack_

This time, rather than yelping, she gasped, then moaned, at the pain. He grinned.

"When _I_ give an order, _you_ obey. Say 'I will not threaten the Minister for Magic.'"

"Go fuck yourself."

 _Thwack_

"Now that you and Narcissa are speaking again, have you done as requested and asked her if you can borrow that collar?"

"She says I can only wear it with you if she can watch. She has a penchant for voyeurism. She has a riding crop we can use, too. Leather. I've seen it. And she's willing to share." These were lies, of course, but she liked the way he inhaled, hissing through his teeth, at the thought. "She also has a vibrating faux dragon's egg and Muggle handcuffs free for the taking." (More lies.) "But why ask to borrow her toys? You wouldn't know what to do with them, _Minister._ Now, unhand me or I'll hex you into the next county as punishment for disobeying _my_ orders."

He laughed and brought his hand up again, wondering where to take this from here. Should he be the Minister and she the criminal? Or would a professor/student scene fit them better tonight? He preferred playing the student. Or perhaps they should embody two strangers hired to assassinate each other but delayed by mutual attraction? She liked that one.

(It had been a long time since they'd last engaged in rougher foreplay and even longer since their last role play, but when they were first together and would go away for the weekend without Teddy, they'd had a number of personas to adopt and scenes to play out and games of oneupmanship that usually led to multiple orgasms for her and overwhelming, exhausting satiation for him. Neither of them had much experience in - or fundamental knowledge of - the _actual_ BDSM world, but both were fans of experimentation and didn't mind a little pain... plus, of course, there had been that weekend in Amsterdam...)

But no sooner had he brought his hand down a fourth time, there was a wail from down the hall.

"Naaaaannnnaaaaa!"

She swore, stood, rubbed her sore bum, fixed her shirt, and threw on her dressing gown. "Coming, Teddy!"

Kingsley echoed the expletive and sat back against the headboard, reaching for his book. He hoped she'd be back - alone - before his building arousal had time to completely die away, but in the interim, he might as well start chapter twenty-six.

He waited and waited, and even dozed off for awhile, but Andromeda did not return. With a sigh, he extricated himself from the bed and set off to find her.

She was sitting on the floor in Teddy's room, her back against the side of his small bed, with him sleeping against her chest. His legs straddled her hip and his face was buried against her neck. They looked the way they had that time he took Teddy to visit her in the facility, when they'd drifted off while on the bench.

He shook his head and bent down, picking up the boy.

"Nooo..." Teddy whined as he half-woke.

"Shhh, Nana's sleeping." Kingsley set him in the bed and brought the blankets up over him, then ruffled his hair and made to move away.

"I had a bad dream." Teddy whispered, reaching for Kingsley's retreating hand. "A bad bad dream. The baddest."

"What happened?" Kingsley was whispering too. He knelt down on the floor beside Andromeda, and let the child cling to his wrist.

"I dreamed like Harry said."

"Like Harry said?"

Teddy nodded vigorously, making his dark brown curls bounce. "When Harry and Nana had that big row. He said she almost died that time she got sick. Sometimes... sometimes I bad dream she _did_ die, like Mummy and Dad. I don't want Nana to die."

"She's not going to die," Kingsley assured him with more conviction than he'd had regarding this subject just a few months before. "As I told you when I had her brought to St. Mungo's, your nana was sick. But you came to me for help and I made sure she got help."

"They taked her away for weeks and weeks."

"So she could get better. The healers took care of her so she could take care of you."

"If Nana dies, do I have to live at Auntie Cissy's? Or at Harry's? Or Malfoy Manor?"

"Where do you want to live?" Kingsley knew he should have reassured the boy again that she wouldn't die, but he was curious.

"Here at my house." Teddy looked to Kingsley with wide, worried eyes. "With you. But I don't want Nana to die. I want her to be my mummy. And I don't want you going away either. When I was... when I was at the Ministry daycare, waiting for Nana, I heard... I heard one of the ladies say 'His grandmother used to be the Minister's girlfriend.' Used to be means a long time ago. Are you gonna leave?"

Kingsley let out a slow exhale. He was not cut out for these sorts of conversations any more than he was the ones Andromeda wanted to have about his previous lovers.

"No. I'm not leaving, and Nana's not dying. We're not going anywhere. Neither of us. I promise."

"Can you stay 'til I'm sleeping?"

"Of course."

It didn't take long for the boy's eyes to close and his breathing to become deep and even, at which time Kingsley straightened, stretched, then bent down again to lift Andromeda into his arms.

"What's... what?" she mumbled.

"Shh, baby. I have you."

"Don't call me baby," she murmured, relaxing in his safe embrace, not fully awake. "I'd rather be your woman."

He smirked. He'd remind her of this the next time she snapped at him for it.

When they were back in the bed, she snuggled up beside him, resting her cheek on his bare chest. He quickly relayed to her the conversation with Teddy. She closed her eyes. Would the child never get over the pain she'd put him through? How could she live with herself knowing she'd caused him permanent harm?

And how was she lucky enough to have kept Kingsley through it all, despite all she'd done and said to him over the last six months?

Merlin, she loved him.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you want children?" She tossed her right leg over his. "You'd make an excellent father."

He sighed. "I wasn't."

"Wasn't what?"

"A good father." He stroked her back between her shoulder blades over the soft cotton of her shirt. "I wasn't a good father twenty-five years ago and I wouldn't be a good father now."

Three Days Prior

(Wednesday)

11:45 a.m.

Ministry of Magic

Department of the Curtailing of Deviant Extremism:

Sympathizer and Supremacist Deprogramming and Rehabilitation

Hestia Jones glanced up as an unannounced visitor entered her office. She did not look up from the paperwork in front of her, assuming the intruder was her secretary, and said, "I told you, Lavender, I'd prefer not to be disturbed between eleven-fifteen and one-fifteen today, as I have a mountain of paperwork to tackle and am supposed to-"

"I'm not Lavender."

Hestia's head snapped up. She recognized that voice, and it was a most unwelcome one.

"Andromeda Tonks, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to speak with you."

Hestia set down her quill and looked the woman over discerningly. Andromeda wore a knee-length moss green skirt over black nylons paired with a burnt orange silk blouse that was so form-fitting it might be obscene were she more buxom, plus high-heeled boots, eyeliner and lipstick, and her wedding ring. Hestia stared at the small diamong for a second, feeling a flare of jealousy. Her fiancé had dumped her and the man she'd spent five years wanting to marry was inexplicably enamored with this fucked up widow some seventeen years her senior.

Hestia was dressed as she usually was at work: plainly. She wore a loose-fitting burgundy witch's robe, unbuttoned, a pale pink button-down blouse, and black trousers. She did not wear her hair loose and wild like Andromeda (who was starting to resemble Bellatrix again) but rather pulled it back into a tight ponytail. She had always been curvy, but now she was gaining baby-related weight and it showed, not only in her midsection but in her face. And her face had broken out horrible that morning, leaving her looking like a hormonal teenager. Despite having youth on her side, she felt decidedly unattractive in the presence of the other woman.

"Unless you are here to learn more about rehabilitation for former Death Eaters and pureblood supremacist sympathizers, I'm afraid we have nothing to discuss." Hestia stood, wishing she was taller, and gestured toward the door. "Thank you."

"We have something to discuss." Instead of leaving through the door as directed, Andromeda closed it. She picked up a book from the shelf to her right and transfigured it into a chair, which she then placed opposite Hestia's desk. "Mind if I sit?" She did not wait for permission.

"Why are you here?"

"Have you spoken with Kingsley?"

Hestia laughed, but she was no Occlumens; Andromeda could feel her pain from across the room.

"Why should he speak with me? I send him owls, he sends me inter-departmental memos."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity." Hestia plopped back into her chair. "We were together over five years, you know. Nearly six. We went on our first date in February 1995, became an exclusive couple in late August, and I moved out of our..." She breathed in sharply, clearly on the verge of tears. "Out of our _home_ the first of June 2001, a month after he... after he told me it was over. But it was over before that. It was over months earlier... because of you."

"Because of me?" Andromeda scoffed, even though Kingsley had admitted to 'noticing' her prior to his breakup with Hestia. "He and I started seeing each other in Febru-"

"I know when you started _seeing_ each other. But I also know he's twice - _twice!_ \- called me by your name in bed, and while the second time was when he was cheating on you, the first was in March, 2001. March, two months before he ended it with me. Eleven months before he started seeing you." She breathed threw her teeth, clearly fighting to keep composed. "That's not the sort of thing a woman forgets, you know."

"He called you my name?"

The woman's pain was palpable and Andromeda knew she ought to feel sympathetic toward her in this moment, but there was something very exciting in knowing he'd done that nearly a year before shagging her in the storeroom. And she was intrigued to know more about how he'd done it again while cheating. She suppressed this inappropriate momentary high and reminded herself she'd come here with the intention of mending fences, not putting up walls.

"I've come because-"

"Because you see fit to torture me? Well, don't. I can't handle the stress. I'm pregnant, remember?"

"I remember." Andromeda tried to put on an empathetic air. She leaned forward with her chin resting on tented fingers, the way Adelaide often did during sessions. "That's why I'm here. Kingsley does not want children..."

"I am aware of what he does and does not want."

"But if the child is his, he won't let you raise it alone."

"Won't _let_ me?" Hestia's eyes flashed dangerously, and Andromeda winced.

"What I mean is, he won't leave you to raise it alone. He's a better person than that, so while it will take adjustment..."

"And he sent you here to tell me this? He couldn't write me a memo?" Hestia glared at her across the desk, but her quivering lip betrayed her intended tough exterior.

"He doesn't know I'm here. He... I... we..." _Fuck._ "Hestia..."

 _"What?"_ She didn't look on the verge of tears now. She looked on the verge of sending the Cruciatus in Andromeda's general direction.

"I know how difficult it is to manage a baby alone. A newborn, a toddler. A small child. While it's not impossible to manage without support, it shouldn't be done if it doesn't have to be. It's better with help. It takes a village and all that. And I... I think... if the baby is Kingsley's, we could be part of your... village. So to speak. He's not quite ready to... to take that step... but I don't... but you shouldn't have to do it alone."

"And you'll help me? _You?"_ Hestia forced a chuckle. "You think I'd trust you, of all people, with the most important gift I could ever-"

"I don't want us to hate each other." This was a mistake, coming here. "I don't want any continued animosity between us. I want us to... to get along."

"I believe it's too late for that, Mrs. Tonks." Hestia stood and waved her wand. The office door opened. "We're done here."

"I've done terrible things," Andromeda said softly, as she rose from her transfigured chair. "But I am _not_ a terrible person. And I _do_ want to help you, because I know how difficult and isolating and exhausting life as a single parent with a new baby can be. Please..."

"I said we're done here. Will you leave voluntarily, or must you be escorted out?" She lifted her wand as if prepared to call for reinforcements. Andromeda shook her head. She turned the chair back into a book, set it on the shelf, and headed for the door.

It closed behind her seemingly of its own accord, and she paused for a moment... just long enough to hear Hestia Jones burst into tears.

She hadn't expected the conversation to go exceedingly well, but she'd certainly hoped for better than that.

Sigh.

She picked up Teddy from the Ministry daycare and headed home hellbent on speaking with Narcissa next, damned determined it would go better than this had.

She hoped.

That night, over a dinner of pan-fried scallops over a crunchy green apple salad with a mushroom risotto (an odd combination Nymphadora had liked), Kingsley and Andromeda listened patiently as Teddy talked about his afternoon playing with Orlando and Ophelia, Hermione's younger siblings, and his cousin Hope, though they were dying to have their own conversation about the day's events.

"And then we played hide and seek and Orlando hided in the bottom of a cabinet and nobody could find him anywhere and then we played tag but Hope didn't want to play tag so she cried then we played Quidditch with the toy brooms but Ophelia can't fly so then we used Draco's old gobstones game but nobody knows how to play and then Orlando stuck a gobstone up his nose and the house elf had to get it out and then Hermione came in and then she said it was time to go outside and then Draco said 'let's go in the garden' and then we had biscuits and milk like a picnic and then..."

Finally, between dinner and dessert, Teddy ran upstairs to use the loo.

"My ears are exhausted," Andromeda admitted as she set to serving the chocolate trifle she'd made earlier. "He's been talking all day, nonstop. I only had two breaks from him. When I was with Hermione and Narcissa, and-"

"And when you accosted Hestia at the Ministry?"

Andromeda nearly dropped the coffee pot.

"Accosted?"

"She came to my office after lunch to ask - no, _demand_ \- that I advise you to never to speak to her again. Or look at her. Or think about her or communicate with her in any way." He sighed and set aside his dinner plate, which she promptly picked up and placed in the soapy sink water. "Why did you tell her we'd help raise the child?"

"Because we should."

"I do not want a child."

"If it's yours, it's too late for what you want to matter." She flicked her wand. "Tergeo Skurge Sapo." The washcloth began cleaning their plates independently while she focused on the coffee.

"It wasn't your place to speak with her."

Andromeda swiveled around to face him. "My place?"

"If the child is mine, the issue is mine."

"If you think you're going to raise that child like..." She dropped her voice in case the boy was on his way back. "Like a surrogate brother for my Teddy, you must recognize that the 'issue' is _ours,_ not just yours."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, thought better of it, and nodded.

"Fair. But I would have appreciated a warning. She accused me of sending you, of using you to do my 'dirty work,' of trying to stress her into a miscarriage or pressure her into another abortion."

"That was _not_ my inten-"

"I know." He stood to take the coffee mug from her, as her hands were starting to shake. "We'll discuss it later, alright?" He jerked his head to the doorway, where Teddy was reentering.

"And then Draco said 'let's play Circe Says' so we all played Circe Says and then Hermione said it's time to do some math facts and then..."

From the side of his mouth, Kingsley muttered, "How many hours did you spend at Malfoy Manor?"

Later that night, while Teddy was finally quiet(er), playing with his toys on the sitting room floor, Kingsley sat in the kitchen watching Andromeda reorganize the cabinets.

"Is that necessary?"

"It relaxes me." She was standing on a chair with her back to him, putting the pasta boxes in alphabetical order. _Angel Hair, Cannelloni, Fettuccine, Linguine..._

"I can think of something else that used to relax you..." He rose and moved behind her, running his hands up the front of her thighs under the moss green skirt.

She snorted a laugh. "Are you referring to sex or to whisky? Because only one of the two used to put me to sleep."

"Not whisky." He kissed her hip. "Tell me about your reconciliation with Narcissa."

 _Orzo, Penne, Rotini, Spaghetti..._

"It was Hermione's day off from the apothecary, so she invited both me and Cissy over for tea. I knew my sister would be there, but she didn't know I would. We left the little monsters in the care of a house-elf for awhile, and we settled in the library." Andromeda couldn't help laughing, remembering the way their conversation had gone... and Draco's appalled reaction to it.

"He's the stuffiest little shite, Kingsley, I swear." She let him help her down from the chair and pulled it over to the table to sit. A quick warming charm made their coffee good again. "You should have a chat with him."

Earlier That Day

(Wednesday)

2:45 p.m.

"What is _she_ doing here?" Narcissa paused upon entering the library, Hope balanced on her hip. Teddy was already off with the other children, and Andromeda was seated on the couch in front of the fireplace, flipping through an old photo album as she awaited her estranged sister's arrival.

"I invited her," said Hermione, coming in behind her with Draco. He took his sister from their mother.

"I'm making scones," he said. "I'll bring them in after I get Hope settled."

"I want scones!" the toddler shouted.

"One," Narcissa said to her son. "She may have one." She kissed her daughter and turned back to Hermione, who was now seated on the couch beside Andromeda. "Why did you invite her?"

"So the two of you could stop this silly fighting and make up!" Hermione smiled cheerfully up at her future mother-in-law. "You miss her and she misses you, now stop being stubborn and forgive each other."

"I'll start," said Andromeda. "I'm sorry I called your late husband a murderer and accused you of being a bad mother because your son grew up to be a Death Eater, which, I realize, was not entirely your fault or under your control. Your turn."

Narcissa gave an exaggerated sigh and lowered herself demurely to the couch on Hermione's opposite side. "Very well. I'm sorry I said you're a bad mother and that your children needed protection from you. That was neither right nor fair."

"Fine."

"Good."

"We're reconciled, then."

"Yes. Quite."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have some tea." A tray was already set up, placed in the library after Andromeda's arrival but before Narcissa's. They each prepared their own as desired and sat back, sipping, unsure of what to say next.

"So..." Andromeda decided to be the one to break the silence. "That studded collar. How deep into that lifestyle _are_ the two of you?"

Narcissa's pale complexion changed to resemble that of a tomato, though whether it was in embarrassment or anger her sister was not sure.

"Collar?" Hermione turned to her in confusion. "What collar?"

"Oh, please let me tell her, Cissy," begged Andromeda.

"Absolutely not!" Narcissa jutted up her chin, trying to remain the appearance of dignity.

"I'll tell you both something far more scandalous and then it won't seem like much, I promise. But it's too delicious not to share."

"I'm this close to rescinding my forgiveness." Narcissa held her thumb and forefinger a few centimeters apart.

"Hermione will start. Hermione, what's the kinkiest thing you've ever done in the bedroom. Share so Cissy feels more comfortable."

Hermione's face went redder than Narcissa's, but the cause of her blush was clear.

"I don't know that I'd be more comfortable with that information," said Narcissa. "Hermione's only ever been with Draco and though I've tried to assist them in the past, Severus says _their_ business ought not to be _my_ business, and I'm not sure I can stomach knowing what she has my sweet boy into... though I hope they're enjoying themselves."

Andromeda snorted. Hermione looked horrified.

"That said, I _did_ gift them a book I may need returned. You remember, Hermione?" She sipped the tea. "The Kama Sutra for Adventurous Wizards and Witches: An Illustrated Guide. Lucius and I started off many an evening by opening to a random page and-"

"I... I know of the book." Hermione shifted uncomfortably between them on the couch. "We've read it."

"Isn't that Bella's old book?" asked Andromeda. Narcissa nodded. "Hm. I remember it well, though I wasn't aware there were any words in it to read. I suppose I was only interested in the illustrations. Has it been of any use to you?"

"Draco and I... we're fine." Hermione stared intently down at her teacup as if the rim were utterly fascinating. "Thank you."

"In 1984, Lucius and I decided to make it our New Year's Resolution to try out a different page every night, save for Sundays. To this day, I cannot understand how we made it through that entire twelve month period without getting pregnant. That man... even at forty he had the stamina of a man half his age."

"No one wants to hear you pant over your dead husband," said Andromeda, vaguely registering that she had, perhaps, been wrong about how "vanilla" her sister was. "Wait, Hermione. Did my sister say you've only _ever_ been with Draco?" She turned to the girl with a look of incredulity.

"Yes." The poor girl's blush deepened to a lovely light shade of burgundy.. "He was my first. And... only."

"Oh dear, sweet, innocent girl. You didn't... I mean..." Andromeda patted her knee as if in sympathy. "You were on the run with Potter for nearly a year and you're telling us you two never..." She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Harry?!" Hermione leapt up, spilling some of her tea. "Harry _Potter?_ You're asking if I ever did it with _Harry Potter?!_ No! Harry's... he's like my _brother!_ I would _never..._ Harry! No! Not ever!"

"Hm." Andromeda sipped her tea calmly and waited for the two other witches to settle down. "Well. Will wonders never cease?"

Narcissa smiled. "I appreciate that she's only been with him. As you know, I had an exceedingly difficult time knowing he was _active_ without being married, but..."

"You _are_ a paradox, sister." Andromeda gestured toward Hermione, who was standing in front of the fireplace, looking anxious. "You want the girl to be a virgin, but you _also_ want her to be well-versed in the many and varied positions documented in the Kama Sutra?"

"One can be both discerning and exciting!" snapped Narcissa defensively. " _I_ was a virgin until marriage, but I was _also_ content to keep my husband happy, and I enjoyed myself while doing so. Nothing wrong with that. Once you're married, you and your husband can..."

"You don't have to be married," Andromeda pointed out.

"No, but you should be." Narcissa glanced at Hermione. "Whenever possible. Or, at the very least, engaged. In an exclusive, serious, monogamous relationship."

Hermione tried to smile. "What _really_ matters is that you love the person."

"You don't have to love the person, either!" Andromeda felt her own face going hot, but not with embarrassment. "I've had plenty of perfectly decent sex without love lingering anywhere in the vicinity. For Circe's sake, Kingsley and I once met a barmaid in an inn while on holiday and invited her to share our room for the night; it was incredible, and neither of us had to _love_ her to feel that."

"You invited a... a..." Narcissa's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. For a woman who bragged about having kissed another witch at a party once, she appeared utterly scandalized by this.

"You invited a _barmaid_ to your room for the night?" Hermione, though she looked more curious and less appalled than her future mother-in-law, seemed just as shocked. She was still standing by the fire, staring down at them. "You're saying _you..._ and the _Minister..._ did _that..._ with _her... together?"_

"Yes, we did, and I'll not have you two prigs judging me for it. There is _nothing wrong_ with sex outside of marriage, and _nothing wrong_ with forgoing monogamy," said Andromeda insistently. "Sex is natural and wonderful and there's no reason to stigmatize _any_ of it, not the premarital, not kinks, not multiple partners, and not... not even sex work. There's _nothing_ to be ashamed of." Words Bellatrix had spoken some thirty-five years before came back to her. Her voice quivered as she blinked back tears when she spoke again. "And it only means something if you want it to."

Narcissa's expression softened, though she was still regarding her sister as if she'd never quite seen her before. She reached across the couch to take her sister's hand. "I'm _not_ judging you, Meda, I promise. And neither is Hermione."

"Right," agreed Hermione, who had her arms wrapped around her body, clearly uncomfortable. "Not judging."

"It feels like judging. All I ever feel from anyone - even strangers - is judgement. Everyone thinks I'm a slag. Harry, Hestia, the Daily Prophet..."

"Meda, no!" Narcissa squeezed her captured hand. "Love, I'm sorry I called you a prostitute the night we fought."

"Don't be." Andromeda tried to pull her hand back, but Narcissa held on. "It's fine, Cissy. You can call me a prostitute. I've _been_ a prostitute. It's not inaccurate."

"I'm sorry I said it in a derogatory way, then. I said it to hurt you."

"Stop apologizing. It's fine."

"It's not."

"Perhaps I should go," said Hermione. "Draco was baking downstairs. He may need assistance."

"He can bake on his own, dear," said Narcissa. "Stay with us. Drink your tea."

"Some of your criticism was valid," conceded Andromeda. "Especially as it concerns Teddy. But he's starting therapy, we're working on getting him to where he should be academically, he's getting a tutor to help with the morphing and involuntary magic, and I'm committed to doing a better job of parenting him, I promise."

"I was only upset because he interrupted. Severus and I were... I was trying to get him on board with a few things, and I felt I was finally convincing him to give one thing in particular a go, and then there was Teddy whining about wanting to live with us because you'd thrown him out. That's why I flew off the broom handle."

"It's alright. I deserved it. I had no idea he'd left the house. I'm only glad he ended up at your home and not Grimmauld Place."

"Why not Grimmauld Place?" asked Hermione. "Because of Harry? Ginny told me he probably isn't serious about applying for guardianship of Teddy. He'll let it go, once he's calmed down."

"What?" Andromeda looked sharply to the standing witch. "He's considering applying for guardianship?"

This apparently made Hermione even more uncomfortable than the sex talk had. "Draco and I had dinner with Harry and Ginny a few nights ago. He said he's been mulling it over, but when Ginny and I went to the loo she said she's been trying to talk him out of it. She doesn't think they can handle Teddy, frankly, especially as she and Harry are already talking about having a second child soon. I honestly wouldn't worry."

"I can't talk about this now." Despite Hermione's assurance, Andromeda was indeed going to worry. She changed the subject back to something fun (for her) instead. "So, be honest, Cissy... the collar. Was dressing up like that the wildest thing you've done together? More importantly, did it work?"

"If you must know..." Narcissa flipped her hair, which was long and loose today, enjoying the attention but faking reluctance under the guise of decorum. "Yes, wearing the collar and having my wrists tied was _by far_ the kinkiest thing I've done with Severus. He is more reserved than Lucius was and won't consent to... certain things... that I used to take pleasure in. It worked in that we had an absolutely enchanting evening, despite Teddy's brief interruption, and he says he's willing to do it again in the future."

Andromeda patted the couch between the sisters, raising her eyebrows at Hermione, a nonverbal plea for her to join them. With a resigned sigh, she returned to her seat.

But she wasn't keen to continue this chat. She had no desire to know more about the sexual habits of her boss and future mother-in-law than she already did.

"Back to Teddy," she started. Narcissa talked over her.

"Lucius and I _loved_ making love in semi-public places - the thrill of getting caught, you know - but I can't even get Severus to remove his _shoes_ if we have company over. Draco and Gregory Goyle arrived unexpectedly one night last week and Severus nearly fell over himself rushing to put his frock coat back on, as if the boys have never seen a man in a black cotton undershirt before. I'm not asking him to run starkers around Hogsmeade, but rolling up his shirt sleeves every now and then would be nice."

"Been unseasonably warm lately, hasn't it?" asked Hermione. "All of a sudden, over the last few days."

Again, neither Black sister paid her any mind.

"I'm also trying to guide Severus toward understanding that loving me doesn't mean he has to be gentle with me all the time, and that being rough doesn't mean he's abusive. He's so bloody afraid to hurt me, he refuses to _hurt_ me. My thighs haven't seen significant bruising since before Lucius went to Azkaban."

"Professor Snape is worried about being abusive?" Hermione tried again to change the subject. "Is it because of his father? Could that sort of thing be helped through couples therapy, like what Andromeda and Kingsley do? What is therapy like, anyway? I find that sort of Healing fascinating. Andromeda?"

"We don't need therapy." Narcissa looked insulted by the mere suggestion. "I was hoping to spice things up, that's all."

Andromeda snorted. "And you thought the key to spicing things up was letting Severus shag you while you were wearing lingerie and a dog collar? The bound wrists intrigue me, though. Until recently, I had no idea you wanted so badly to be dominated, nor did I know you liked for Lucius to leave you bruised. Surely a man with the self-control of Severus could manage to oblige without injuring you? I once advised him to pull your hair in the bedroom. Did he give it a try?"

"Yes, he pulled my hair once, but felt guilty about it later. The collar worked out well, though, and despite his reservations, he seemed to enjoy tying me up. Next time I'll see if I can convince him to choke me a little."

"What is _wrong_ with you women?" Draco, in the doorway, was holding a tray of just-baked scones. Unlike Severus, he was perfectly comfortable being seen in a white cotton t-shirt and jeans (looking much too Muggle for his mother's taste). "Don't you ever talk about anything that isn't absolutely revolting?"

"Sex is not revolting," Narcissa and Andromeda replied in unison.

"It is when the people having it are..." He looked them over, a disgusted sneer across his pointed face. "You."

"Should we be offended?" asked Andromeda. "Or amused?"

"Bit of both," said Narcissa. "Don't worry, love. Hermione wouldn't share with us any of your personal proclivities."

"She won't tell us about your preferred kinks, either," said Andromeda. "But if you're not getting any use out of that Kama Sutra guide your mother gave you, could you lend it back? We're contemplating starting a book club. Do you reckon Molly Weasley would want to join? Or maybe that sweet Luna Lovegood?"

Narcissa hid a grin. "I'd bet ten galleons Hermione's mother would jump at the chance, being recently single again, and I wouldn't mind inviting Minerva McGonagall; she's a lovely person."

"Is Madam Hooch still the Quidditch referee at Hogwarts?" asked Andromeda, knowing full well she was. "I reckon _she_ could add a thing or two to the discussion. I've always gotten the impression she knows how to please a woman."

Draco's mouth dropped open cartoonishly. The tray in his hands tilted, nearly spilling its contents onto the floor.

"Let's leave these two to their happy reunion!" Hermione jumped up from the couch, took the tray, and set it down between the sisters. "I want to see what the children are up to, don't you, Draco?"

"I... yes. Let's." He let her lead him from the room as if in a daze. Andromeda snickered.

"Your son is awfully sexually repressed, Cissy. Does he get that from you or from his father?"

Narcissa reached for a scone. "Honestly, if I didn't know it to be impossible, I'd think he inherited _that_ particular trait directly from Severus."

Four Days Later

(Sunday)

7:48 a.m.

"I love you, baby," Kingsley breathed into her ear as he thrust against her. "Andromeda, I love you."

She clung to the backs of his bare shoulders, holding him in place on top of her. He had already removed her t-shirt and she had divested him of his pajama bottoms, leaving only the fabric of her knickers between them. He kissed her over and over, kissed her lips and cheeks and throat... and down... to her shoulders, her chest... he sucked one nipple into his mouth, making her moan.

"Yes... yes, Kingsley... I love you, too." She moistened the pad of her thumb and drew it across the nipple not currently being flicked by the tip of his tongue. Only a couple of days before she'd argued that sex was normal and natural and wonderful, and nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed for, and more than anything she wanted to believe it.

"I love your body, I love your wit, I love your mind..." He continued kissing his way south, over the fabric of her knickers, to her inner thigh. He stopped to suck on the skin there; she hoped he'd leave a mark.

"Undress me."

"Yes." He hooked the sides of her knickers and wriggled them slowly down until they were off, tossed to the side with the rest of their clothes. He then pressed his lips to her inner anklebone, and drew them up her calf, positioning her leg over his shoulder as he reached her thigh.

 _Sex is normal and natural and wonderful, and nothing to be ashamed of, and there was nothing wrong with being with a man - or woman - outside of marriage, and it only means something if you want it to._

So why was she already starting to panic?

 _Breathe,_ she told herself. In and out, over and over, keeping steady, as his kisses trailed closer to her center. He paid attention to her inner thighs and outer lips and the line of her pelvic bone, and touched her everywhere save for where she was aching to be touched.

It had been over four months since they last engaged in actual intercourse, and about six since the last time they'd done so outside the facility, in her home, in her bed.

In her home, in her bed, mere hours after she left the bed of Thorfinn Rowle.

Mere hours after she purchased what would be her last doses of that drug.

Including the dose that left her unconscious and near-death on her sitting room floor.

She'd purchased the concoction already prepared and loaded it into three separate syringes, knowing that amount would have to last her at least a week. She didn't know if she'd last three days. But money was tight and he was becoming increasingly demanding when it came to other ways she could pay.

 _"Next time," he'd growled in her ear, "Next time, bitch, I'm going to bugger you over the table, the way I always wanted to do your arrogant sister. That cunt was always at the Dark Lord's side, his go-to fuck, looking down on the rest of us, while you were off shagging a Mudblood, a traitor to our kind." He thrust roughly, his hands on the backs of her thighs. "Both you whores could afford to be taken down a peg."_

In that moment, Andromeda wasn't sure she could possibly be taken down any farther, but she didn't argue. As always when with him, she fixed her gaze on a set point (this time, the single bulb hanging from a cracked ceiling). She pretended to be elsewhere, tried to mentally remove herself from the situation, and employed Occlumency to keep her emotions in check until it was over. Healer Smelthwick called this "disassociating." She supposed she could do that with Kingsley now, let him continue while closing herself off, but it didn't seem fair. She loathed Rowle, but she loved Kingsley. He deserved better.

Andromeda gasped as Kingsley entered her with his tongue. Despite her emotional anguish, fuck, it felt good. Physically, it always felt good with him. Without even thinking about it, her hand settled on the back of his head, and she began lightly scratching at his scalp the way she knew he liked. She should tell him. She should tell him about that last time with Rowle. She should tell him she was afraid she'd run out of the drug and have to go back, that she'd have to let him take her in that way, the one thing she'd always said no to... She'd told Ted no too, but he'd kept asking, kept reminding her if she loved him, she would, kept bringing up that stupid fucking affair as if it meant she owed him... until she gave in.

"Merlin, you taste incredible," he murmured, as his fingers joined his mouth on her sex. His tongue worked over her clit as his first and middle fingers curled inside her, hitting just the right spot.

"My... name's... not... Merlin!" she gasped, trying to keep her hips from bucking. How could it feel so good down there and so bad in her head at the same time? "Call me your woman."

"Mmm..." He licked along her seam, all-too-happy to oblige her request: "My woman."

"Yes... there... yes..."

"I love you, woman."

"Oh, Minister, I love you."

 _She made the first syringe last four days, but that night she'd already taken the entirety of the second syringe on the sitting room floor. In a few days, it would be the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. Five years._

 _Teddy was asleep upstairs. She shouldn't do it while he was right upstairs. And she knew it was too much. She knew she was still going to be high when he awoke in the morning. She knew he'd find her fucked up and she wouldn't be able to explain what was happening. She knew she should get up. Floo for help. Send an owl to someone, at the very least. Before her brain turned to mush. Before she lost herself entirely._

 _But then she picked up the third syringe._

"Ohh!" She cried out as he found a spongy spot inside her she'd thought was a myth until Kingsley helped her discover otherwise. "Don't stop... don't stop... don't stop..."

"I have no intention of stopping," he said. He pressed upon that spot again as his other hand pushed down on her pubic bone, and his tongue returned to stimulating her clit. She could feel her orgasm building... she could hardly breathe... she felt dizzy...

 _She'd been dizzy that night when she inserted the needle. She'd already done too much. She was already too far gone. More could kill her. And if it killed her, she'd never have to lie down for Thorfinn Rowle ever again. Never have to see her sister's killer in the mirror. Never have to fight her way through another miserable day. Teddy could live with Narcissa, Kingsley would find someone new, no one would ever again compare her looks to Bella's, and they'd all be better for it. It would be so easy... so easy to die... so easy to never wake up again._

 _She watched, detached, as she pushed down on the end of the syringe, letting the liquid flow through the needle into her arm. It felt better already. Cold, cold, cold traveling through her veins, into her heart, into her brain. Never again. Never again. She hadn't injected even half when the darkness crept in, and she saw stars, and then, blissfully, everything went blank._

 _Never again._

She was seeing stars now. Her climax crashed over her almost violently as she cried out his name, twice slamming the back of her head against her pillow.

"I love you," he assured her again, moving up to lie beside her. She was on her back, he was on his side, and both were out of breath. "I've never loved any woman as I do you, Andromeda."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Please." He kissed her cheek and pulled her to him. "Don't apologize."

"I'm sorry I'm not better for you-"

"You're everything to me."

"I'm sorry I can't tell you everything-"

"You've told me enough."

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I hurt you, too-"

"I'm sorry about your son." She couldn't keep the tears from flowing. "I'm sorry they treated you that way. I'm sorry you had to sneak around to see him. I'm sorry he-"

"Andromeda, please, please let's not talk about... about him." Now he sounded anguished. He placed his hand on her lower abdomen and kissed her cheek again as she started to sob. "Don't cry."

"Make love to me, Kingsley." She brought her hand up to his face, running her thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. "I love you so very much and I want you to know-"

"I know."

"I want to show you-"

"I know."

"Make love to me."

He shook his head, smiling sadly. "When you're ready."

She nodded. It hurt, it hurt, she loved him, and it hurt.

"I _was_ trying to kill myself."

His brow furrowed with worry. "When?"

"That morning Teddy found me, that morning... that morning you came... that morning you had me brought to St. Mungo's. I didn't overdose accidentally." She choked on her tears, but continued stroking his cheek, staring up at him. "I was trying to _die,_ Kingsley. _I wanted to die._ I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sor-"

"I know, baby." He pressed his lips to hers in a tender, gentle kiss. "My woman, my Andromeda. I know."

"Hold me?"

He turned her onto her side and wrapped his body around hers, spooning her. His erection pressed against her lower back and she felt a flareup of guilt. Yet again she'd gotten him excited, let him pleasure her to orgasm, and then fallen apart before repaying the favor. But he kissed her shoulder and held her close and didn't make mention of it.

"Andromeda? I'm sorry you wanted to die."

* * *

 **A/N:**

The rest of her Saturday night conversation with Kingsley will be in the next chapter.

Unrelated, I've been watching a lot of Master Chef and Hell's Kitchen lately, which inspired me to learn to cook, so I'm mostly making Gordon Ramsay recipes and, as a result, Andromeda is too. Thus far, everything's been delicious!

More importantly... I've reached an impasse of sorts. I only have two chapters left to be twelve weeks, but I have so much more written for this fic than could conceivably fit in two weeks, so I'm thinking of adding a Part Three that covers the time while Teddy is in his therapy, and Andromeda and Kingsley trying to fix themselves and their relationship without being able to rely on Healer Smelthwick (though I'd like to have her continue to be involved). I have always intended for this to end with a final chapter (epilogue) that takes place shortly before Draco and Hermione's wedding, which is where Stages of Grief ends, so you know why Andromeda isn't there, but I'd like to continue on the journey... if y'all are interested in reading it. I just fell farther into this fic than I'd ever intended!

However, if the general consensus is that I should wrap it up in two weeks then just have an epilogue that explains a little of what was missed during the time between, I can rewrite it like that. This isn't my most popular fic ever, but it's become one of my favorites to work on, so I guess I'm just not really ready to say goodbye. Any opinions?

 **-AL**

 **PS:** Thank you to my Chapter 22 reviewers! **Clarasnotlikely, FrancineHibiscus, somethingnew2016, sassanech, kalilje, AstoriaRedfern,** and **Popular Cats.**


	24. Part Two: Week 11

**A/N:**

Not going to lie, this chapter is really talk-heavy and heavy-heavy, not to mention long, but they only have two sessions left so I wanted to cover some things before next week. I WILL be continuing with a part three. :)

Sorry for the delay in posting! My first book came back for final edits at the same time I was supposed to be finishing the rough draft of my second and I ended up with no time for my fics! Back on track now.

Thank you to my Chapter 23 reviewers: Jces999, Harry Hobbit, KnowInsight, FrancineHibiscus, Kat, Sassanech, Kalilje, somethingnew2016, emrldapplejuice, and Lilikaco (love your reviews! thanks for doing every chapter!). Also a big thanks to everyone reading, following, and adding to faves!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR**

 **END OF WEEK ELEVEN**

"I felt our discussion last session was... illuminating." Healer Smelthwick regarded her patients carefully. They were side by side in the center of the couch, a united front. Though she still had her doubts about whether they could really work as a couple, whether their relationship could truly be repaired, she couldn't deny that there was genuine love between them. That was evident in the way Andromeda visibly relaxed whenever he smiled at her, and the way he rubbed small circles against the back of her hand with his thumb when she seemed agitated.

Today they had a special guest for their session: Teddy. The poor boy was sick - Dragon Pox - and exhausted from being up half the night trying to scratch his spots. He slept now with his chest to his grandmother's, his cheek to her shoulder, his legs bent on either side of her thighs. She stroked his hair, shoulder-length and its natural color today, while Kingsley massaged a soothing ointment into the soles of his purple rash covered bare feet - easier to do when he wasn't awake to fight it.

"It's been... a week," said Kingsley. He placed the tub of salve on the low table and used his wand to clean his hands. "Not an easy one for any of us."

"I spent three days with Teddy at St. Mungo's, but after that article came out..." Andromeda let out a frustrated burst of air. "Reporters were crawling all over the hall outside his room, trying to sneak inside, trying to corner me or catch Kingsley for a statement. After I left Teddy sleeping in the company of a nurse and returned to find that menace Rita Skeeter attempting to unlock the door with her wand, I signed him out and took him home. Kinglsey made this place unplottable, and Narcissa's too, and put both under the protection of a Secret Keeper, so at least we're relatively safe for now."

The Healer nodded knowingly. They'd sent her the address on a piece of parchment that erased itself seconds after she read it, so she was aware of the new protections.

"Our lives have been turned upside down. Again. And with Rowle's wife accusing the Ministry of denying her husband a fair trial..."

"I saw that awful article in the Prophet. Without a war to focus on, it seems they've gone full gossip rag." Adelaide Smelthwick was not one to mince words. "How has that affected you at the Ministry, Kingsley? Between the pregnancy revelation and the accusations of impropriety, I imagine you've been under considerable stress."

He sighed. That was an understatement. "No one speaks of it, at least not to me, but I know everyone's read it. There are whispers, furtive looks, judgmental glares. Hestia is upset, naturally. She wants to know who leaked her personal information to the press. I assured her I would do no such thing and neither would Andromeda. Why would either of us want it to be public knowledge? I suggested she'd done it and was attempting to pin it on me out of guilt, which was probably unfair, as she's not the type. In response, she sobbed and said she'd only told her best friend, her ex-fiance, and her sister, which means if neither of us spilled the Bertie Botts Beans, one of them did, and now she doesn't know who to trust. She said she feels..." He cleared his throat and sent an awkward look in Andromeda's direction. "She feels dreadfully alone and might end up taking Andromeda's advice. I told her she shouldn't be thinking of suicide and should seek help if she's serious, but I made the mistake of adding it's not too late to terminate and she threw me out of her office. That was Thursday. We've not spoken since."

"In her defense, and in all fairness, it _was_ a rather insensitive thing to say," said Andromeda, still stroking Teddy's hair. "I'd have thrown you out too, and I don't even _want_ children." She kissed the boy's forehead. "Save for this one."

"Would you consider telling her?" asked the Healer. "What you told me last week, I mean. About your son. Perhaps if she knew, she would better understand why you-"

"I even wondered whether _you'd_ leaked it," interrupted Andromeda. "But you're no Occlumens, and I've been using Legilimency on you since you arrived today. It's clear you did no such thing. I'm sorry for momentarily doubting your confidentiality."

Healer Smelthwick frowned, her brow furrowed. "You ought to be sorry for invading my privacy by rifling through my mind without permission. We've discussed this, Andromeda. While using Legilimency on an unsuspecting person is not illegal, it is unethical and a breach of confidence. Our relationship requires trust, and-"

"I know. That's why I'm confessing to it. I'm sorry. I'll not do it again."

Though Healer Smelthwick looked slightly unnerved, she took a deep breath and continued. "Kingsley, do you think it might help the situation with Hestia to tell her-"

"No," he said. "I don't want her to know. You know and Andromeda knows and that's twice as many people as... It was not easy for me to tell either of you and I don't believe it's anything Hestia needs to know about. Especially if someone she's confiding in is the leak."

"Very well." Healer Smelthwick sighed. "Well, we have only two sessions left together, this week and next, so let's plunge straight in, shall we? The Prophet and Dragon Pox aside, as a couple, how was your week?"

"It was difficult," admitted Andromeda with a sideways glance at Kingsley. "We've spent a considerable amount of time in the tub, Teddy and I. Severus made him a special bath concoction of oats and Essence of Mutlap and a few others things to soothe both the itch and the aches, but he doesn't want to be in there alone, so we both don our bathing costumes and-"

"She's incredible," interrupted Kingsley. "They take his little toy mermaids in there and she plays with him, or if he's too tired she uses an Impervius charm on one of his favorite books and reads to him while he sits up against her, and-"

"It's nothing." Andromeda waved a hand dismissively. "I do what any moth... what any grandmother would do, that's all."

Teddy seemed to sense they were talking about him. His eyes fluttered open and he began to squirm.

"Nannnaaaa," he whined, trying to scratch at his spots. "Owwwie."

"The poor dear," said Adelaide, with a shake of the head. As a Healer, she'd built up an immunity to the Pox, thankfully without every having fully contracted it.

"Excuse me, I need to run up for his medicine." Andromeda kissed his forehead. "We keep it where he can't get to it."

"Come here, lad." Kingsley lifted him off her, transfigured the coffee table into a little bed, and tucked him in with the blanket draped over the back of the couch. Andromeda returned with a small vial. She tipped the liquid into Teddy's mouth (the boy was already falling back to sleep) and kissed his forehead. After massaging the soothing ointment from the salve Kingsley had used earlier into some of the nastiest spots on his arms and chest, she re-tucked him in and returned to her spot on the couch. The Healer looked upon the small brown haired boy with sympathy. She'd had Dragon Pox around his age and could still remember how her entire body ached and itched for two straight weeks. Andromeda sighed.

"As I was saying, it was a difficult week. And the Dragon Pox only made it worse."

Kingsley nodded his agreement.

"As you may have read, Euphemia Rowle told the Prophet I threatened to kill her husband, thus prompting his confession, which should therefore be discounted."

"Did you?" asked the Healer. "Remember, anything you say to me is confidential."

After a long pause, he nodded.

"And I might have done it, were two of my Aurors not present. Not that it's a valid excuse, but he was goading me about... _her._ She nearly died. When we picked him up, there was still the possibility that she was going to die. I was worried, angry. Not myself. I accused him of peddling poison, of being a murderer. He asked whether I'd ever had the urge to bite her on that birthmark..." Kingsley clenched his fists, pressing them against the tops of his thighs. He was wearing a long purple and blue wizards robe today, one of her favorites. She reached across the couch to take one of his hands. This relaxed him only marginally. She caught Adelaide's confused expression.

"I have a port-wine stain marking on my thigh."

"And a scar across her back, from when Death Eaters tortured her and Ted for information."

Andromeda went pink. "I... I forget that one is there."

"From a Stunning spell," said Kingsley. "Rowle asked me if I'd left that mark. He said he knew how rough you liked it."

"I didn't," she whispered. "He liked to hurt me, but I didn't like it."

"I hate to rip open old wounds..." Adelaide chose her words carefully. "But I believe there are unresolved feelings about this - about the Thorfinn Rowle situation - and given we only have two sessions left, this week's and next, I think we ought to talk about it."

"He told my Aurors what she was like in bed, how she looked naked. I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, and then, when he said he'd go to the Prophet if I didn't let him off, I was even more furious. I told them to take him straight to Azkaban, not to listen to another vulgar lie. But it killed me, thinking of him... with her."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing." Kingsley spoke more sharply than he'd intended, standing up as he did so, and she actually flinched in response. "Oh, Andromeda, _I'm_ sorry. But you... you have to know..." He swore under his breath.

"Let it out, Kingsley," prompted the Healer gently. Her quill was poised over the parchment, ready to write seemingly of its own accord.

"You don't know what it was like for _me,_ Andromeda. That morning. That night. The days that followed. We've talked at bloody length about you, about your issues, your suicide attempt, your depression, your bloody feelings..."

"I'm sor-"

"Don't! Let me... let me say what I need to, please."

She waved a hand as if to say, 'be my guest.'

"Teddy came to me at the Ministry. He Flooed to my outer office, where he surprised my secretary. He was hysterical, sobbing. She brought him in to see me, interrupting a meeting with Arthur Weasley and Hestia."

Andromeda's eyes narrowed at mention of Hestia, but she said nothing.

"I asked him what was wrong, where you were. He said, 'Nana won't wake up. I think she's dead.' And then I couldn't understand anything else, because he was crying too hard to get his words out. I asked Hestia and Arthur to stay with him so I could check on you, but he clung to me and wouldn't let go."

Andromeda gazed down at the tiny, sick boy on the makeshift bed before them. Her heart was breaking. Teddy had thus far refused to talk about that morning, even with his new therapist.

"I took him with me. We Flooed here. Hestia followed."

"She was in my _house?"_ Andromeda's eyes snapped up to meet his.

"I put Teddy down. She held onto him. I found you crumpled, there, on the floor." He pointed at a spot along the wall opposite the front windows. "I rushed to you, feeling for a pulse, trying to discern whether you were breathing. You were, but just barely. You had blood on your face and shirt; I assume you coughed it up."

She gingerly placed her fingertips against her chin as if she could feel it.

"The needle was still in your arm, not completely empty. I pulled it out and threw it in the fireplace, which was a mistake as it meant it couldn't be used later for Healers to identify what you'd taken. I told Hestia to take Teddy next door to your sister. I apparated with you to St. Mungo's."

"She brought him to my sister?" (Narcissa had never mentioned this.)

"I thought you would die. I thought I was too late, and I felt sick because we'd had that fight the night before. I thought, whatever you'd done, it was my fault. I should have stayed with you. I should have had Rowle arrested already. For what it's worth, I had been trying to have my Aurors gather evidence against him that didn't in any way involve you, to protect you, but they'd caught you leaving him a fortnight earlier and believed you had drugs on your person then. They requested permission to pick him up. I said no, to wait, because if they did it then they'd have to arrest you too. That was when... that was when I was informed it was believed you were shagging him - you wouldn't have been the first - but I didn't want to believe it."

She brushed her hair in front of her face with her fingertips before reaching for the pillow with the fringe-edge. Her comforts.

"I carried you through St. Mungo's in my arms. I insisted they treat you immediately; it may come as a shock, but overdosing addicts don't generally take priority there over other cases, even when the person who's done so is an employee."

"Can't imagine why they fired me," muttered Andromeda. Kingsley ignored this.

"While they were working on saving your life, I sent a Patronus to Harry Potter and Magnus Griswold in the Auror office. I wanted them to track down Rowle, to do it discretely, and to inform me the _moment_ they had him back at the Ministry. I wanted to question him myself."

Kingsley paused both his story and his pacing to look down upon sleeping Teddy. "Hestia said he was inconsolable. Narcissa agreed to take him, of course, but he was begging for Hestia to bring him to me instead. When a Healer informed me they needed consent to use a particular procedure on you and that it had to come from a next-of-kin, I had to send a Patronus to Hermione, asking her to close the apothecary to go take Teddy and Hope from your sister so Narcissa could come to the hospital and sign paperwork."

"They wouldn't let _you_ do it?"

"We're not married, remember?" he said with a hint of bitterness. "She's your next of kin, not I."

"I'm sor-"

 _"Don't say you're bloody sorry!"_

"Should we take a break, Kingsley?" asked Healer Smelthwick.

"No." He did, however, take several deep breaths before continuing, steadying himself. "No. But I'll try to keep a cool head." He sat on the couch, but on the end opposite from her, not touching. "Your sister was at St. Mungo's within the hour. They let her in to see you at her insistence."

"Oh, fuck me," she groaned. So she'd been seen in that condition by her grandson, her lover, his ex-girlfriend, her then-coworkers, her boss, and her sister.

"Over the next several hours you regained consciousness several times. You tried to use a wandless unforgivable on the Healers. They called me in to calm you. You told me I should have let you die, than you ought to kill me for bringing you back to life."

She opened her mouth to apologize again, thought better of it, and said nothing.

"You called me a number of vicious names, none of which I can repeat in front of Teddy, and said you'd never loved me."

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. She had no recollection of this.

"You also called Narcissa a self-absorbed cunt..." He glanced at Teddy, wincing at the 'inappropriate' word, but the boy was still asleep. "And suggested she should've been executed with her husband."

"I didn't!"

"You did. In your defense, you were not yourself. They had you highly medicated with potions but were also trying to rid your body of the drugs that were poisoning your system; it was a delicate balance, they explained. And experimental, as they weren't sure what they were fighting. I explained this to Narcissa, who subsequently returned home to take charge of the children. It wasn't until about twelve hours after your arrival at St. Mungo's that Harry sent word they'd arrested Rowle. I went immediately to the Ministry. By then they'd knocked you out and there was nothing I could do for you."

"I have few clear memories of those days in the hospital. Being restrained I remember, and yelling at you, and you calling me an addict, but beyond that..."

"Rowle sang like a canary. He threatened to ruin your reputation - and mine - by telling all to the press if I didn't have him released. I demanded to know what he'd given you, as the Healers said they'd better be able to treat you if they knew. He said, 'I gave her a good hard fuck on the regular for months now, right under your nose Minister. That's what I gave her.' He thought it was quite funny. I told him if you died, he'd die. He further goaded me about you - that's when he brought up for birthmark and scar - and I put my wand under his chin, threatening to kill him right then to save the Ministry the cost of a trial. Harry stopped me from doing anything rash."

"Nothing I did was to hurt you," she whispered.

"I know." He moved closer to the center of the couch. "But you did."

"Did he end up telling you what was in the syringe?" asked Healer Smelthwick. Kingsley shook his head.

"He refused. When it became clear he'd give us nothing, I said to get him out of my sight. Potter and Griswold transported him to Azkaban and send an owl to his wife informing her of his arrest, and filed paperwork with the partial Wizengamot to have him sentenced without trial on account of his confession. They then discussed whether to arrest you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. He'd identified you as one of his clients and said you'd had sex in place of paying him with money. In other words, he accused you of purchasing illegal substances and of prostitution. Potter said he was worried if they ignored the charges against you, they'd be accused of playing favorites, of not following the law to the letter. Potter..." Kingsley cleared his throat. "Potter reminded me of my own words four years ago, when we arrested everyone involved in the protests at the Ministry, that we must be better than the regime before, and that meant operating to the letter of the law and with transparency, with the same rules for all. I convinced both him and Griswold that it was in your best interest to be committed instead, as you could not go to Azkaban in that state and also could not participate in your own defense. Much like we did for Narcissa years ago, we decided to drop criminal charges on the contingency that you complete a rehabilitation program."

"Thank you." She slid sideways to be closer to him. "I've never thanked you for that, but I owe you my gratitude. I... I'm grateful not to have been sent to Azkaban. I'm thankful that I was given the opportunity to get better instead."

His expression softened. He brushed a curly tendril back behind her ear. "You're welcome."

"How do you feel now, Kingsley?" asked the Healer. "Now that you've gotten this off your chest?"

"Honestly?" He pondered momentarily. "A bit better. I haven't wanted to delve too deeply into it, to make her feel worse than she already does, but that was one of the absolute worst days of my life. I thought she would die. I was heartbroken for Teddy. I blamed myself for not having acted sooner. I thought, if she recovered, she'd never forgive me, and I worried Teddy... I haven't much experience with children, and I've never seen one in that state. I visited him daily for the first week she was in treatment and each time he'd cling to me and cry when I tried to leave. I had nightmares in which I relived finding her on the floor with that needle in her arm. I couldn't shake the knowledge that she'd been sleeping with Rowle, especially after she confessed she went directly from his bed to mine."

"Only once. I know I made it sound like a regular occurrence, but that only happened once. Generally, I tried to only see him on days I knew I wouldn't be seeing you." She kept her eyes on the center of the throw pillow on her lap. "And I made _him_ use a condom."

"Which is probably why you and I tested clean, while he has Chlamydia."

"What?" asked Andromeda and Adelaide in unison.

"While you were in St. Mungo's, I had Narcissa sign permission to have you tested for sexually transmitted infections. You were clean. I did the same for myself, same results. Rowle had a health exam within his first week in Azkaban, which is required of all criminals who will be there for a month or more. Chlamydia. Needed treatment."

"Forgive me, Minister." Healer Smelthwick looked to be all business, back straight, eyes narrowed. "But how did you come by his test results? Or hers, for that matter? Such things are private, between Healers and patients only."

"I'm the Minister for Magic," he said simply. "I'll not say more. But I do regret that they never informed you of your results, Andromeda. I should have said something, but when you brought it up the second time I visited you in the facility, after your apparent suicide attempt..."

"After learning I'd performed fellatio on that nurse to get high."

"At the time, I was still awaiting the results - and, quite frankly, I wasn't sure how I felt about you. I missed you and cared for you, but I was hurt."

She nodded, blinking back tears. He closed the gap between them, pressing his right thigh against her left, and place a hand on her knee. Adelaide simply waited until they were ready to go on.

"I hated every moment, for what it's worth." Andromeda closed her eyes, both remembering it and trying to block it out. "He would say the most awful things to me while... while doing whatever he was doing. He'd call my by my sister's name, which I hated, plus a whore, a slag, a cunt, a bitch, but all that wasn't the worst of it. He'd say things like... like about how much my parents hated me, how... how great a disappointment I was to them. He said Kingsley was only with me because I was a knockoff of Bellatrix and he, as a former Auror, wanted the pleasure of having dominated her as no man but the Dark Lord could. He said my daughter would be disgusted by me, had she lived to see what I became, that she was lucky to be dead rather than face the shame of being mine... he said I should thank Bella for killing her..."

"Andromeda," Kingsley said gently, looking upon her with renewed concern. She shook her head but did not open her eyes.

"He'd ask, 'What would your mother think, to see you now? Nothing but a common whore, a cheap slut, a filthy slag, defiled first by a Muggleborn, then by anyone with money...'" Her nose began to twitch and her lower lip trembled as tears formed. "He'd say, 'She didn't miss you, you know.' He'd known Mother during the first war. He'd say things like, 'She was relieved when you ran off with the Mudblood. She was glad to be rid of you. She knew no decent pureblood would want you. She knew you were rubbish, trash, less valuable than the dirt under her shoes, a nothing...'" She choked back a sob but could not keep the tears at bay. "He would ask things like, 'Why didn't your mother _love_ you, Andromeda? Why couldn't you have been more like your _sisters?_ Were you _born_ broken, or did it happen with time? How old were you when you realized you'd never amount to anything more than an easy fuck?'"

She let go of Kingsley's hand and buried her face behind both of her own, letting her hair fall forward to shield her.

"He was cruel," said Healer Smelthwick. "He said those things to be cruel, not because they're true."

"They _felt_ true."

Andromeda's shoulders shook as she succumbed to sobs. The Healer and Minister sat in patient silence until she'd composed herself enough to continue.

"I think... I think he got off on knowing he was causing me as much pain as possible. He knew it would hurt me to bring up my parents, to compare me to Bella, to speak of Nymphadora. And when I didn't... when I'd use Occlumency to avoid reacting to his words, he'd get frustrated, and... he... he'd hit me or pull my hair, or choke me, and call me worthless, a Muggle-fucker, a pathetic imitation of my sister, a sore excuse for a mother. He'd say, 'All I have to do is tell the Minister all the ways you've let me shag you and he'll cast you aside the way your parents did. You mean nothing to him. You mean nothing to anyone.' I hated myself when I was with him, I hated... I hate myself for what I let him do to me."

"I should have killed him." Kingsley suddenly stood, his fists again clenched, glancing around the sitting room as if seeking something safe to punch.

"The last time we were... together..." She opened her eyes to gaze up at Kingsley, who couldn't quite look at her. "I asked for three syringes full and ready to go, as opposed to the raw materials which would mean making it myself. It was more expensive than usual, but I... I thought it would be the last time. I thought..."

"You thought you'd be dead soon." Healer Smelthwick reached out and took her hand. They'd talked about her suicide attempt last week.

"He said... he wanted to... to bugger me next time, which I didn't want... and he said..."

"I should have killed him," repeated Kingsley emphatically, turning away. "Bastard."

"He said his wife, Euphemia... he said she knew Ted at Hogwarts. They were both in Hufflepuff, same year, which is true. He said... he said she said she... she remembered... she..."

"She remembered what? You can tell us. This is a safe space." Adelaide shot Kingsley a sharp look. "Isn't it?"

"Of course." He exhaled deeply and returned to the couch, kneeling in front of her with his back to Teddy's little bed. "I'm not upset with you," he fibbed, his hands on her outer thighs.

"He said Euphemia remembered Ted. She said he..." Andromeda's voice cracked; she was holding back more tears. "He was 'just another boy who fancied Bellatrix,' but as a Muggleborn, he knew he'd never have a chance with her, so he went for the next best thing: me." She bent forward, burying her face into Kingsley's shoulder. "He said Ted was... was just like my parents. Disappointed to be stuck with... with a poor imitation of her. He said Ted had nev... never really wanted _me._ He said you and Ted and he were all the same, all taking me only because you couldn't have _her._ I was the next-best thing for him, for you, _and_ for my husband."

"That's a damn lie." Kingsley wrapped his arms around Andromeda, stroking her back as she'd earlier been doing for Teddy. "Fuck, Andromeda, as an Occlumens, couldn't you see what he was doing? He was using your greatest fears against you, playing to your insecurities. He's a sick, twisted man, and you're right, he likely got off on being cruel to you."

"He's a Legilimens?" asked Adelaide. She hadn't thought the condition was common, but she was learning more wizards and witches had some mastery of it than she'd ever suspected.

"He is, yes," said Kingsley. "He made it clear during his questioning. I was able to block him, but neither of my Aurors - Harry Potter and Magnus Griswald - could."

"He... then... then maybe... How could I not see he was capable of Legilimency?" Andromeda pulled back. "How could I have been so bloody blind?"

It sickened and infuriated Kingsley to see the pain in her eyes, knowing Rowle had so viciously compounded her low sense of self-worth and that she'd been carrying this around for so long.

"I thought you knew," he said. "I thought, being one yourself..."

"Maybe he was lying, then," she added hopefully, cradling his face between her hands. "Maybe Ted was never interested in Bella?"

"I'm positive he wasn't. I saw the way he looked at you when Nymphadora was sworn in as Auror."

She sniffled. "How did he look at me?"

"The way I do."

There was a moment's pause, and then she kissed him. He could taste the salt of her tears on her lips and he was all-too aware that the Healer was practically within reach, but he kissed her back, closing his eyes and wishing he knew how to help her. When they parted, Kingsley returned to the couch, securing an arm around her.

"It was so important to me. That Ted loved me, I mean." She wiped her eyes with her sleeves. "Our marriage was... imperfect... but I spent my childhood feeling so very unloved, and he... he seemed too good for me, so when we ended up together... and when he returned to me, when he and Nymphadora returned after my affair... It was important to me that he saw me as someone worth a second chance. It's much like the way it is with you, Kingsley. It's important to me that you love me, that you gave me another chance, and I almost threw away everything - more than once. It was so... I never intended... I hated myself for not being good enough to marry you, so I drank and I used, then drinking and using made me feel worse about myself, so I drank and used more, and I hated every moment with him, but I was hooked and I couldn't stop and I just wanted it to stop and I felt like it would never stop so I left him that last time with those three syringes full and I promised myself I would never go back, not ever, I would never let him use me like that again, and then I... I knew I would die, and I did it anyway, and I... poor Teddy found me, and... and then you... and..."

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do," he said softly, looking as though he might want to kiss her again.

"I'm going to get more tea," said Adelaide, standing and heading toward the kitchen even though her mug was nearly full.

"I would have married you a year ago and I would marry you now," said Kingsley, drawing her against his chest and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Your resemblance to Bellatrix is marginal to start, and once one has gotten to know you, it dissipates completely. I _never_ see her when I look at you. I see _you_ and I _love_ you."

"I wish I could give you a baby." She brought up her hand to stroke his stubbled cheek. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days, what with all the worry over Teddy and the Prophet article consuming their every waking moment. "I wish I could give you what Hestia can."

"I don't want a baby. If this one is mine, I'll try to be a better parent to it than I was to my son, but please do not feel inadequate on account of your hysterectomy-"

"Partial hysterectomy."

"Partial hysterectomy, because the inability to give me a baby in no way makes you lesser than she is. Those four times over the summer were... I meant it when I told you that was one of the worst mistakes I've ever made."

"I just want you to love me," she whispered, and both were heartsick over how pathetic and small she sounded.

"I _do_ love you."

"I love you, too. I want to be with you and I don't know why I can't bring myself to-"

"We're together every night," he reminded her. "We don't have to have sex to be together."

"You're too good for me and I don't deserve you."

"That's not even remotely true. I-"

"Naannaaaa!" Teddy rolled onto his side, wincing from pain as he awoke again. "Naaannaaa I huuuuuurt!"

"Come here, love." She scooped him into her arms and settled back on the couch, cradling him like a (very large) baby. She rocked gently back and forth, trying to get him back to sleep, while he whimpered and wriggled. Adelaide re-entered with a fresh mug of tea and retook her seat.

"Perhaps you took him home from St. Mungo's too soon," the Healer said gently. "He's a little green."

Andromeda did not respond, but Kingsley shook his head vehemently.

"The press was unbearable, as Andromeda said. Between Euphemia Rowle's accusations and the fact that all of wizarding United Kingdom now knows there's a very real possibility their Minister for Magic impregnated his assistant - former assistant - we were unable to get a moment's peace there. Andromeda was supposed to start her new job on Thursday but I spoke with her boss and he agreed to wait a week for Teddy to be more fully recovered before she leaves him. I've taken a leave of sorts as well, working from home this week and next. Healer Bonham, who's been providing Teddy with therapy, and his tutor, a young Metamorph named Seward, are off for these two weeks as well. He's young with a strong immune system, and Severus is well versed in the potions, bath regimens, and salves necessary to treat it, so I think we'll fare better here at home."

Adelaide did not make mention of the fact that he'd now twice referred to Andromeda's house as home, but her eyebrows did lift ever-so-slightly with the word.

For the remainder of their session, Andromeda held sleeping Teddy while Adelaide asked a series of questions about their relationship and how they intended to move forward after their time with her came to a close. She then gave them each an assignment to complete for the following week, thanked them for the tea, quickly examined Teddy as a favor, and Flooed home.

Teddy didn't each much dinner (porridge with one of his more bitter medicines mixed in, which his nana attempted to mask with honey) and went to bed easily. Andromeda had made a steak and ale meat pie for herself and Kingsley earlier so they sat down to eat once the boy was sound asleep.

"I'm exhausted," she confessed as she placed a plate in front of him.

"As am I. Butterbeer or gillywater?"

"Coke. There are a few in the-"

He had them on the table before she'd finished her sentence. During dinner they made casual conversation, not mentioning their session with the Healer, and Kingsley couldn't help noticing she spent a lot of time scratching at her forearms... and thighs... and neck.

Afterward, he sat at the kitchen table looking through paperwork while she did dishes, but her scratching was a distraction. Finally, he stood up, swiveled her around, and swiftly removed her t-shirt.

"What the hell are you-"

"I knew it!" He backed away and pointed at her midsection with the Lumosed tip of his wand. "Purple and green blotches! You've got Dragon Pox!"

"What? No! I can't." She checked out her itchy midsection, hoping what she could see was a trick of light. "But I... I had it as a child! I... I think."

"You think? You don't remember?"

"Well, no, not exactly, but... but... but Narcissa remembers having had it, she has a scar on the top of her foot from a spot she scratched too hard, so I assumed I had it too!"

"You have it now!"

She examined her arms and chest. Sure enough, purple and green blotches. Itchy ones. Very itchy.

"No! I can't! No, oh, fuck, this isn't fair!"

"Into your bathing costume." He handed back her shirt. "We're getting in the tub."

Andromeda groaned in protest but allowed herself to be led upstairs to the loo. Kingsley filled the tub with warm water and Severus' soothing, healing concoction while she examined her spots in better lighting. She got into her suit - a tank style top and short-shorts, same as she wore on the beach in Barcelona with Kingsley and Teddy recently - and was stepping into the tub when she realized Kingsley had stripped down to his undershorts.

"You're joining me?"

"May I?"

"Please."

He stepped in and sat first, with his back against one end of the tub and his feet to the other, knees slightly bent (as he was too tall). She settled with her back to his chest.

"I know you said you don't want to talk about it..."

He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Talk about what?"

"Your son. But I have one question."

He sighed. As he'd told both her and the Healer during the previous week's session, he had no desire to talk about the boy. He'd given her as much information the night of his confession as he intended to give and that's what he shared with the Healer the following morning. Still, considering how open she'd been with him since her facility release, he couldn't help feeling he owed her just as much honesty.

"What's your question?"

"What was his name?"

Kingsley closed his eyes and rested his chin on her shoulder. Enough time passed that she thought he wouldn't answer, but then he said, "Brighton."

"Brighton?"

"Brighton. His mother chose it. It did not get my vote, but ultimately it was not my say."

"What did you want to name him?"

"What else? Kingsley." He kissed the top of her shoulder. There were no spots there, but she already had more than she had downstairs in the kitchen, including a large blotch on the side of her neck. Thankfully, like Healer Smelthwick, he was immune.

"You wanted to name him after you?"

He nuzzled against her again. "My father was a Kingsley, and his father, and his father before. My father's family has been in England for hundreds of years and every first born son has been a Kingsley at least as far back as Shakespeare's time. Whatever issues I have with my parents in regards to their views on magical blood purity, I have always loved and respected them, and wanted my son to be a part of our line."

"Did he share your last name?"

"No." Kingsley clenched his teeth. This had been a sore spot with him then and it remained one now. "No, she gave him her name. Brighton McKinnon. That was her parents' decision."

"Were you together when he was born?"

"Yes, and had been since fourth year. I loved her. I loved our son. I was excited to be a father, despite the circumstances. I honestly thought we would find a way to make it work, our families be damned."

"Do you still love her?" She craned her neck to look at him. "It's alright if you do."

"I don't know. I love the person she was, I always will, but had she lived, would she be the same person? Would we still love each other today? I can't say. We were young, then. Children."

Andromeda closed her eyes. The bath was indeed soothing, and she was exhausted. Not only from caring for Teddy all week, but because the effects of the Dragon Pox, which can include lethargy, were kicking in.

Andromeda dozed off and on in Kingsley's arms in the tub, thinking about their conversation the week before, when he'd made his confession about not having been a good father.

She'd been shocked, of course. How could he never have mentioned having a child?

 _"It's not something I like to talk about."_

 _"Where is he now? Your son?"_

 _"Dead."_

Damn.

"Tell me about Brighton, Kingsley. Please?"

"Not much to tell." He sighed, picturing the baby. "He was born small, but not premature. I wasn't able to see him until he was six weeks old because her parents wouldn't leave the house at the same time for fear I'd pay a visit. But then time I met him, he'd lost weight and then gained some back. He was born with hair - lots of it - so he didn't take after me in that regard."

Kingsley chuckled, as did Andromeda.

"I love your bald head. I think you're handsome without hair."

"You're in the minority, then. My mother assures me I was born with less hair than a thestral and it took two years before I had a head full. She was afraid I'd be bald forever and was vocally relieved when I wasn't. Then it started receding when I was in my twenties, so I didn't even get to enjoy it that long. I had an afro for awhile though, in the seventies. I had an afro when my son was born. I wish you could have seen it."

"You must have photographs."

"Heavily guarded. I wouldn't mind _you_ seeing, but the general public? This was during my bellbottom jeans and heavy gold necklaces phase."

She laughed, imagining him back then. "I'll wager you were much more handsome than you think. You said you were nineteen when he was born. Was she the same age?"

"Yes. We'd been Head Boy and Girl together. I was Ravenclaw, she was Hufflepuff, like your Nymphadora."

Andromeda smiled. She'd been pleased when her daughter had been sorted into Ted's House instead of her own, though "Anything but Gryffindor" had been her mantra at the time. (Dora's had been "Anything but Slytherin.")

"You said her parents hated you and your parents hated her, but why?"

"My parents were pureblood, old line Voldemort supporters, back then. My mother's family in Nigeria could trace their magic back centuries, as could my father's family here in England. My father was proud of his status as a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and my mother was terrified of ending up with a non-magic grandchild, as had happened to one of her sister's who married a Muggle."

"And that's why they supported You-Know-Who?" She reached over the edge of the tub for her wand and used it to tie up her hair, as the ends were getting wet.

"Yes. The first war hadn't started yet, but Voldemort - _Voldemort,_ not _You-Know-Who_ \- was gaining followers, and also garnering attention from the Ministry. Brighton's maternal grandfather was a Muggleborn Auror who wasn't terribly fond of mixed-race marriages, and her mother was a half-blood, one of the founding members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. My father didn't want me with the daughter of a Muggleborn and her father didn't want her with a nig-"

"Did he call you that?" Andromeda cut him off, twisting her body to face him, her face screwed up with concern and disgust. "He called you that word?"

"He did, among others. That was when he said I was never to see his daughter again. She was already pregnant at the time and our parents met to discuss what to do with us. My mother and father were, rightfully, insulted, and said they wouldn't take such abuse from anyone, but especially not from a filthy Mudblood like him. My father said the baby would ruin the family line and her father said they weren't the only ones having their line ruined. Our mothers were less... nasty... about it. I think both were worried they'd end up with a grandchild they weren't allowed to see, whereas the men were busy being locked in a power struggle. Ultimately, my parents thought I could do better, her parents thought that she could do better, and no one cared what we thought."

"That's bloody depressing, love." She turned back around, against resting her back to his chest. "Prejudice on both sides. That poor baby."

"We were fourteen when we went on our first date, to Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade." For some reason, the words were coming easily now, even though he hadn't talked about his son or the boy's mother in two decades. "She was beautiful."

"What did she look like?"

"Long blonde hair, shade darker than that of your sister. Hazel eyes. Freckles across her nose, cheeks, and shoulders. We were prefects together, then Head Boy and Girl, as I said. She played Seeker; I was a Beater. I got her with a bludger once. Knocked her off her broom but she caught the Snitch on her way to the ground. Spectacular catch. I broke her elbow, visited in the hospital wing to apologize. That was our first conversation."

Andromeda laughed. "So your first conversation with your first love only happened because you hit her with a bludger, knocked her off her broom, and broke her elbow? Sounds like 'love at first injury.'"

"It wasn't on purpose!" He laughed. "Hufflepuff won the match by two hundred, so it's not as if she had anything to complain about."

"Just the broken elbow."

"Madam Pomfrey healed it and she was back to normal in time for dinner in the Great Hall. She was a good sport about it." He pressed his lips to the spot just under her ear. "She was my first and I was hers, sixth year. I got her pregnant in 1978, a few months after we finished at Hogwarts. I was already working at the Ministry - Magical Games and Sports - while she had an apprenticeship with Madam Malkin. She wanted to design high fashion dress robes. He was born in July, 1979. Six weeks later, her parents went to Kings Cross Station to see her younger brother and sister off to school and I finally met my son."

He'd already told Andromeda (and Adelaide) that their parents had loathed each other and insisted upon keeping them apart, so he had to fight to see his son. It had outraged Andromeda, who did not understand how two adults could let their parents control them like that, but he'd explained that his girlfriend had spent her entire life trying to please her overachieving parents, and would die before disappointing them further. Andromeda had had to admit she could relate.

"I was young, foolish. I thought I could change their minds if only I was more impressive. I worked hard, all the hours I could pick up, with the hope of advancing quickly. If I made enough money to buy us a house, if I had enough clout to garner respect from his colleagues, if I was able to care for both their daughter and their grandson... I wanted a real family, with a housewife and a slew of happy children. I wanted an enviable position within the Ministry. I wanted to show her parents I was worthy of her and show mine she was perfect for me."

"I love you," she said softly, holding his arms in place around her body. "I love that you were Head Boy with top marks and a good job, yet you still worried about not being good enough. I love that you thought you could change the minds of bigots who didn't deserve to have such a wonderful person in their lives."

"I was saving money, but not fast enough. Living on my own, renting a flat, was expensive, but I was too proud to ask my parents if I could move home. I wanted her to move in with me, but I also wanted to marry her, and I wanted... I thought if we married first, her parents, her father in particular, would be quicker to come 'round than if we lived together."

"What happened to her? And to Brighton?"

He would only tell Andromeda and the Healer that they'd both died in 1980.

"Please tell me, Kingsley."

He struggled to choke out the truth.

"Murdered. Murdered by Death Eaters. The entire McKinnon family, over Easter holiday while her younger sister was home from Hogwarts. My girlfriend, her parents, her younger brother and sister, and my only son."

"Murdered?" Andromeda felt as though her lungs were being compressed; she couldn't gulp down enough air. "Murdered by Death Eaters? Like my daughter was."

"Possibly murdered by your sister. Bellatrix was among those suspected."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Andromeda could hardly speak, for so visceral was the pain she felt as though she was being tortured, just like on the day she received that Stunner scar on her back. "Our children might well have had the same murderer."

"I felt responsible, always. If I had moved them in with me, if I'd been more vocal, fought back against her father, insisted she and my son were living with me, they'd not have been targeted. Her father was an Auror. Her mother was a founding member of the Order. She was a walking target. I could have kept her safe, and our son too. He wasn't even a year old."

Though not usually one to break down in a show of emotion, this was too much for Kingsley. His shoulders shook, and he started to cry. She slipped forward and turned her body to face him, kneeling high and bringing his face to her chest, holding him as she would Teddy.

"And that's why you don't want children?" she asked softly, as his tears finally began to subside. "You feel you couldn't protect him, so-"

"Now I'm the Minister for Magic. Auror like her father. Order member like her mother. Another target. How could I bring into the world another child? I cannot fail another child, Andromeda. I cannot..."

"Nana?"

Teddy's voice from the doorway startled them both.

"Nana, why you in the bath?"

"I have Dragon Pox. This is one of Uncle Severus' special baths."

"Oh." He glanced from her to Kingsley. "Kingsley, why you sad?"

Kingsley shook his head. Andromeda quickly came up with a reply.

"Kingsley is sad because we're both sick and he's very tired. Could you go back to bed, love?"

"I'm itchy. Take a bath?"

Before she could answer he was struggling to free himself of his pajama shirt. He got lost in it, couldn't see, lost his balance, fell on his bum, and said an 'inappropriate word.' She couldn't help smiling.

"I've got him," said Kingsley. He waved his wand in the boy's direction, leaving him in just his undershorts, cotton boxers with Muggle cartoon characters printed all over. "Get in."

Andromeda helped Teddy into the tub, resumed sitting with her back against Kingsley's chest, and let Teddy settle himself facing her with his arms around her neck.

"I don't feel good," he whined.

"Shhh. Lay your head on Nana's shoulder and close your eyes. I'll tell you a story." She waited for him to do so. "Once upon a time, there lived a little girl named Alice. Alice was supposed to be reading a book, but was quite put off to discover the book had no pictures in it! She set it aside and was growing rather sleeping when a white rabbit happened by, checking his pocket watch. 'I'm late!' shouted the rabbit. 'Oh dear, oh dear...'"

Soon enough, Teddy's breathing had become deep and regular, indicating he was asleep.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes?"

"I am very sorry for what happened with your son, but I don't think it should stop you from having the family you always wanted. I... I love you, I do, with all of my heart I love you, but if you... if you want... to leave me, to give it a go with her - if that baby is yours, I mean - I'll... I'll understand. You deserve a real family."

"If that baby is mine, Andromeda, I will do my best to be a better father for it than I was for my son, but I have no intention of leaving you for her." He wrapped his arms around both her and Teddy and kissed her cheek. "I have a real family."


	25. Part Two: Week 12

**PART TWO:**

 **CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE**

 **END OF WEEK TWELVE**

"That's it, I quit!" Kingsley sat up from the end of Andromeda's hospital bed, furiously upending the board game on the hovering tray between them, sending small wooden tiles in all directions. "I quit and I am _never_ playing with you again, not ever, not even if you beg me, I don't care how bloody infirm you are!" He kicked one of the tile holders, which had landed by the side of the bed. "And all these Muggle games you make me play are stupid. The only one worse than this is the murder mystery with the little silver weapons. Why can't we play a real game? Like gobstones? Or Wizard's Chess?" He flicked his wand again, this time in the direction of the tiles that had been missed with the first wave, and muttered, _"Rather play Wizard's Chess."_

Andromeda laughed. "Kingsley Emmanuel Shacklebolt, listed to yourself! You are the sorest sore loser I have _ever_ set eyes-"

"I am _not_ a sore loser!" He waved his wand, sending the tiles back into their cloth pouch. _"You_ are a sore winner."

"A sore winner?" This only made her laugh harder; tears welled in her eyes.. "Forgive me, Minister, but _you_ are the one throwing a Teddy-level temper tantrum right now, all over losing a game of Scrabble, not I."

"Not _a_ game of Scrabble, Andromeda. _Eleven._ Eleven straight games. There is no way any person can possib... you're cheating, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" She tried to look indignant, but it was difficult as she was struggling to hold back a hearty guffaw.

"You're a Legilimens. A better one than I am an Occlumens, I suspect. That's how you're doing it, it must be. You know what letters I have and block my words before I can-"

"You are a tall, handsome, bald-headed man-baby." She wiped her cheeks, but her shoulders continued to shake. This was not his first little fit over losing, but it was one of his bigger ones, and they always cracked her up. He was generally so stoic, so reserved and in control, even when angry. Even in battle. But at the moment, he was frowning and pouting and even had his arms crossed over his chest like a petulant tween. She wished she had one of those Muggle video cameras to capture the moment.

"You've wounded me with your words," he said sarcastically as he folded up the retrieved game board. He rolled his eyes. _"Man-baby."_

"I've certainly wounded your pride; that much is clear. And _you're_ wounding _me_ by making me laugh. I'm _sick,_ remember?"

"Woman, there is no _possible_ way you could have bested me eleven times in a row without-"

"Ohhhh, does ickle Kings-wee have a tough time being bested by his _woman?_ Does it bother the former Wavencwaw that he's been slaughtered wepeatedly by a Hogwawts dwopout? Is wittle Kings-wee feewing a wee bit insecure about his intellect? Doed he need a nappy change and a bottle of warm milk?" (Bellatrix was not the only Black sister who'd perfected the mocking 'baby' talk voice.) She snorted but dropped the mocking tone. "Out of curiosity, love, is this how you reacted whenever Ravenclaw lost a Quidditch match? Did you throw your broom and whine to McGonagall that it must've been fixed? My poor dear sweet man, come, lay beside me and I'll rock you to sleep."

"This is precisely what I am referring to when I call you a sore loser." He flopped into the chair beside her bed, pouting.

"Go on, Minister. Let it out. Stomp those feet, pound your little fists against a pillow..." She reached behind her. "Here, use mine."

"Sod off."

She fixed the pillow behind her back. He stared straight ahead, aware of his immaturity in the moment but not caring to amend his behavior. _Eleven games in a row!_

"Let's see, this time I beat you by..." She picked up the pad and pencil on which they'd been keeping score to finish her calculations. "Three hundred thirty-seven to one-forty-two. Not one of my better scores, really, but the Dragon Pox takes a lot out of me, and you flipped the board before we'd even used a third the tiles."

It was Saturday afternoon. She'd been hospitalized since Monday, when her fever reached a dangerous high and even Severus' best potions couldn't bring it down. Kingsley had cared for Teddy since, as Narcissa didn't want him around Hope until he was deemed not contagious and the boy refused to stay anywhere but home, but he was now spending the long weekend with Draco and Hermione in Austria, at Andromeda's assistance. (Single parenthood exhausted Kingsley. He confessed on Day Three that he had newfound respect for her and couldn't understand how anybody managed alone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd managed to use the loo without Teddy rapping at the door as soon as he'd lowered his pants and asking for something he needed Right This Minute.)

"The next game we're playing against each other is Quidditch." Kingsley returned all the pieces to the box, which he in a small crate under her hospital bed. "We'll see how far Legilimency takes you on a broom."

Andromeda held her pencil over the paper, poised like a reporter. "Minister Shacklebolt, Andromeda Tonks with the Quibbler here. Tell me, do your constituents know you completely melt down when your girlfriend manages a triple word score that contains both a J and an X and is worth 116 points? Which, need I remind you, is but a modest amount considering what she got for 'oxidized' not two days ago, a word that earned her..." She checked back a few pages. "Two seventy-eight."

"I want a divorce."

"We're not married."

"Fine." He took one of her hands between his and sent her a sweet, fake smile. "Andromeda, will you marry me?"

"Are you asking me to marry you hoping I'll say yes so you can tell me you want a divorce?"

"Yes."

"Then no."

"I rescind my proposal, then."

She chuckled. He cracked a genuine smile.

"I'm sorry I'm a sore loser. It wears on a person, losing over and over. I am not used to it. And if I'm being perfectly honest, yes, I was often an arse about losing Quidditch matches, too." He brushed her hair back from her face. "When you get home, let's play strip gobstons. That's my favorite game."

"Because you usually win?"

"Because even if I lose, I win." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I _do_ loathe the murder mystery game, though."

"Come here, love." She placed one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his bicep, and guided him down until he was nearly on top of her. "My fever is down for the moment. Let me make you feel better."

Their lips were just barely touching when was a knock at the door.

Kingsley immediately rose, straightened his jumper (Muggle clothes today), and called out, "Who's there?"

"Healer Smelthwick!"

"Enter." He waved his wand to unlock the door. They were still being extra careful to avoid the press.

"Good afternoon. I heard Andromeda was here and wanted to pop in." She smiled at her patient. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than Kingsley."

"Oh." The Healer turned to the Minister with concern. "Have you contracted it too?"

"No," Andromeda answered for him. "He lost his eleventh straight game of Scrabble and his life is ruined as a result."

"It's just a game," he said dismissively, though she shot Andromeda a quick, sharp look, which made her snicker.

"Fun." Healer Smelthwick looked pointedly at Kingsley. "Could I see you for a few minutes, Minister?"

"Certainly." He and Andromeda exchanged a puzzled glance, but he followed the Healer from the room, down the hall, and, most uncomfortably, into the same dusty old storeroom in which he and Andromeda had first 'noticed' each other.

"Lumos." Her wand lit up. "I've been trying to get in touch with you but was reluctant to send a letter, lest it should be read by Andromeda." The Healer took one of the stacked chairs, placed it on the floor, and sat, thus he did the same. "I have to be honest, Minister, I am concerned about something discussed during our last session."

"About Rowle?"

"No. About you."

"About me?" He was clearly taken aback. "What about me?"

"I realize that you are the Minister for Magic and that comes with certain... perks... but medical information is confidential. How did you learn the results of the sexually transmitted infections test Andromeda took?"

"I..." Should he lie? Tell the truth? Tell her it's none of her business? He sighed. "I requested a copy of her chart, the one that hung on the end of her bed in the facility. The results were included."

Healer Smelthwick pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed, looking pained. "I was afraid of that. They should have denied you."

"They tried to deny me, but I'm the Minis-"

"I know you're the Minister." She dropped her hand and regarded him scoldingly. "But I don't give a flying flobberworm who you are _or_ what your position is, sir. As Andromeda's primary Healer, any requests for information relating to her should have gone through me, and you can bet your arse I never would have granted you permission to peruse her chart. That is such an egregious violation of her confidentiality and trust, it physically sickens me, and I believe you knew it was wrong when you asked for it. She is not your puppy, your child, or even your spouse. You had _no right_ to that information."

His jaw dropped. He was not used to people speaking to him this way, the way his mother had when he misbehaved, the way McGonagall had when he was caught out after curfew. He didn't like it in his youth and he wouldn't stand for it now. He rose.

"With all due respect, I don't believe we have anything more to discuss, Heal-"

"Sit back down."

Her tone was so sharp, he obeyed without a second thought. He blinked several times, as if unable to believe he was being reprimanded. He even folded his hands in his lap and sat up straight, two things his mother required during a 'talking-to.'

"You need to tell Andromeda what you did. I'll not file a formal complain as I do not wish to see a fellow staff member fired for doing what I'm sure she or he thought they had to, but I would like your word you will not abuse your power in such a way again, because if I discover you've-"

"I apologize, Healer Smelthwick." He held his hands up in surrender. "I suppose I did not think it was..."

"You did not think. That much is clear."

"But-" He couldn't refrain from defending himself. "Had she been diagnosed with something contracted from him, _I_ could have gotten it too. Wouldn't knowing be my right, as it impacts my health?"

"You had your own testing done, did you not?"

He nodded.

"That was all you needed, then. If you're still worried, wear protection. But you have no right to another person's medical history or test results, especially when you neither asked her permission nor ever intended to tell her you'd perused her file. You _violated_ her in reading through that, and I do not use that word loosely. How can she trust you? How can I? You abused your power at her expense."

He bowed his head, this time sufficiently chastened. "I'm sorry. I was worried about her."

"No excuse."

"Should I tell her what I read?"

"That's up to you, but if you want to be with her, to work on your relationship and grow as a couple, do you truly think you can do so when you're keeping a betrayal like that from-"

"A betrayal?" His head snapped up. "Is that not a bit extreme? I read her file, I didn't shag her sister."

"In that case..." Adelaide produced a miniature manila folder from inside her uniform pocket and transfigured it back to its usual size. "You won't mind if I give her _yours._ The Ministry requires all high-level employees have physical exams and mental wellness checks biannually, as you're no doubt aware. Let's peruse, shall we?" She flipped it open to a 'random' sheet of parchment. "Ah, here we are. June, 1990. May I ask whom you were dating then? I only wonder because it seems you were diagnosed with a _nasty_ case of-"

"I don't think that's necessary!" He reached for it, but she held it beyond his fingertips, shooting him a pointed look.

"I found something interesting in 1994 as well. Shall I share, or do you know to what I'm referring?"

"You've made your point, Healer." Kingsley scowled, not making eye contact. "For the record, 1991 was cleared up in a matter of weeks." He cleared his throat. "And those were not 'defensive wounds' in 1994. I _asked_ her to bite me. I didn't know they'd call me in for the exam two days later."

Adelaide shrunk the file with a shrug and returned it to her pocket.

"You owe me no explanation, Minister. It's none of my business, after all. Is it?"

"It is not."

"And it doesn't feel good, does it? To have someone privy to your personal information without your prior consent?"

"I said you've made your point, Healer Smelthwick." His tone was all business now. He was ready to be done with this little impromptu meeting.

"Just making sure. Through your couples therapy sessions, I believe Andromeda has been as honest with you as she's been able to be with herself, which is saying something, given her struggles. I know you've said you'd like for her to get through an intimate encounter without breaking down and confessing something she thinks will make you hate her, right?"

"Yes."

"And I hope that day will come. But in the interim, it hardly seems fair that she's opening herself up to you so fully while you're not only keeping your own secrets from her, you're keeping secret the things you shouldn't know about her."

He let out a sigh of resignation, knowing she was right.

"I am not an open man, Healer. Our sessions... they're not easy for me. I am closely guarded with my personal life and always have been. I... Last week, after you'd gone, I told Andromeda the full story of my son and what happened to him, and to his mother, things I've never told anyone save for my Mother, who shared with my father. Both agreed to keep it between us and never again speak of it. I was raised to be strong, shoulders back, stiff upper lip. I cannot be Minister and be an overly emotional-"

"No one is asking you to profess your love for her while standing in that fountain in the Ministry atrium, nor am I asking you to write a list of every secret you'd ever had to let the Prophet publish it. But I've made it clear since week one honesty is key, and learning you'd read her file - Kingsley, I do not mean to harp on it, but I'll not mince words: I am thoroughly disgusted. And while _I_ won't tell her, nor will I reveal what I've learned from your file with another living soul, I think you need to have a conversation with Andromeda."

"I understand."

"And perhaps tell her about 1991 too. It may ease her mind to know you're not perfect either." She stood, indicating he could do the same.

"Thank you for not reporting my perusal of the file, Healer. Doing so could only hurt us both, not to mention the employee I... intimidated. You were right, I knew it was wrong when I was doing it, and no excuse is a good enough excuse. I'll tell Andromeda. I promise. And I genuinely appreciate all you've done for us through our session, and all you did for her in the facility."

He held out his hand. She shook it.

"I _do_ think you're a decent man, Minister. And I have faith that you'll do what's right." She reached toward the door.

"Six months ago, I thought our relationship was damaged beyond repair."

She hesitated, her fingers on the knob. "And now?"

"I have hope."

"Good. I only want what's best for both of you, and for Teddy. I don't know if you're what's best for each other. But I think it's clear you love each other, and for that reason, I want whatever you have to work out... though you'll have to work at it."

"Thank you."

"Nox."

She left the room. He stayed for several minutes, leaning against the wall, staring into the darkness. He remembered the rush he'd felt the day Andromeda pulled him in here, when they'd kissed for the first time, when they'd hurriedly half-undressed each other unable to resist exploring with fingers and lips and tongues. He'd been in love with her from afar, and to realize she was attracted to him too had been the ultimate high. As he got to know her better, he found she wasn't exactly the person he'd built up in his head, but he fell just as in love with the woman she really was, the one who wore ripped jeans and oversized Quidditch t-shirts, the one who cleaned her home for _fun,_ the one who did crossword puzzles when she was supposed to be working and scolded him for eating biscuits in bed because crumbs attract mice. As much as he loved dancing with her at social engagements and drinking with her until both were a bit heady, he also loved reading beside her before falling asleep together and listening to her use a dozen different voices when telling Teddy bedtime stories. He'd read more than he should have in that file - he'd read it all, not just the results of her STI tests - and he knew she suffered from depression, that she self-harmed, that she was addicted to modified elven herb and alcohol...

And he knew that her parents had taken her in to be tested for 'mental defects' as a child, that they'd insisted there was something wrong with her, and that the "port-wine stain" on her thigh was actually a purpled burn left by an illegal potion her drunken father threw at her when she was small. He knew more than he should, perhaps even more than she could remember...

(He silently scolded himself for not having realized nothing was in there about Dragon Pox, thus he should have realized she was indeed in danger of catching it from Teddy.)

He also knew how horribly she'd been tortured by those Death Eaters, an attack she always wrote off as 'not that bad' but refused to relive in detail.

"You've fucked up, Kingsley," he muttered. "You have to tell her."

He pondered asking Healer Smelthwick for a copy of his own medical file and giving it to Andromeda, in case she wanted to do to him as he'd done. At the time, he'd told himself there was nothing ethically wrong with reading her file. She was sick. She needed treatment. He was practically her next-of-kin, albeit not legally. He was paying for her stay in that private facility. He told himself he was _owed_ that information, that he needed it in order to best help her recover.

But in truth, he was trying to understand why she was the way she was.

Madness ran in her family, in the entire Black family, and it was no secret her parents were quite young, obscenely wealthy, and woefully under-educated, as her maternal grandparents eschewed Hogwarts for letting Muggleborn students attend and her paternal grandparents did not seem at all concerned with their son's low marks across his O.W.L.s so long as he didn't seem set to squander the family fortune or lose them their place in the Sacred 28.

At least her parents weren't closely related to each other, as her cousin Sirius' had been (according to that tapestry on the wall in Grimmauld Place).

Andromeda's parents had actually done their girls a service by allowing them to attend Hogwarts through age seventeen, at which time they were pulled out to prepare for marriage (or Andromeda would have been as Bellatrix was, had she not run off). This was the way many pureblood families handled their daughters' educations, though by the turn of the twentieth century, most had abandoned the archaic courtship rituals and were content to let their daughters finish their schooling before being married off. (Some even let their daughters select their own husbands. His own parents had chosen each other, but his father's parents' marriage had been arranged.)

He wanted to know if she was mad, in part because he worried for poor Teddy, and he wanted to know if she had a disease, in particular any he could potentially catch, but the Healer was right: it was not within his rights to read that file.

And he would have to tell her he'd done so.

The question was, when?

Should he do it now, while she was in the hospital, but knowing they still had one more session with their Healer?

Or after they returned home, when their sessions would be over but they'd be back in the privacy of their own... _her_ own space?

He sank back into the chair and cradled his face in his hands. He could already feel one of those intense headaches coming on. They were generally triggered by stress, seasonal allergies, or lack of sleep. Currently he was battling all three. He wanted to lay on the couch in her sitting room with his head in her lap and have her massage his forehead and put pressure on his temples, the way she did so well. He wanted to go back in time to the way things were before he'd asked her to marry him and she'd said no and their entire bloody lives had slowly unraveled.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the small, dark room. How had he let everything go so wrong?

Meanwhile, down the hall, Andromeda had a visitor.

"They assure me you're no longer contagious," said Narcissa, though she didn't look like she wanted to get too close.

"What are you worried about? You had Dragon Pox when we were children, didn't you?"

"I did, yes, but Hope-"

"Isn't here. So everything's fine. Come, sit, have a biscuit. Why are you here?"

"I need you." Narcissa, deciding it was safe, rushed to her sister's side, though she ignored both the chair and the bicsuit tin. She tgrabbed one of Andromeda's hands between her own. "I've been dying to talk to you in private for the last two weeks. I need your help. My sex life is the most unfulfilling it's ever been. I'm serious. I have never been so sexually dissatisfied in my entire life, and I'm both growing desperate and going mad."

"I'm flattered, Cissy, and I know I told you've I've had experience with a woman in the past, but we're related, so-"

"Augh!" Narcissa dropped Andromeda's hand and pulled both of her own back, clutching her chest dramatically. "That's revolting! Why do you always say things like that? I meant I wanted your _advice,_ you perverted purple-spotted platypus."

"Nice alliteration." Andromeda chuckled. "If ever I write a book, I'll ask you to edit."

"This is no laughing matter, Meda! Severus and I... we're... I need help!"

"Have you tried that Karma Sutra book you borrowed back from Hermione?"

"He'll look at the pictures with me but he's unwilling to try anything too adventurous. He won't even shag me in the backyard after dark even though our hedges are enchanted so no one can see over or through! He says those Muggle airplanes have windows so people will spot us from above. 'Good for them,' I said. 'Let's give them a show!' He said absolutely not. What else can we do? Wearing a dog collar is all well and good, but-"

"I thought it was a choker."

"Fuck off, it was a dog collar and we both know it."

Andromeda chuckled a second time. "I'm not laughing _at_ you, love, but you're sweet when you get like this. Your pout reminds me of the one Kingsley was wearing earlier, when I destroyed him at Scrabble."

"I don't know what Scrabble is and I don't care. Can you help me? Surely your marriage was boring at times, right? That's why you had an affair?"

"Are you looking to have an affair?"

Narcissa gasped. "Of course not! I _love_ Severus! I'd _never_ do that to him! How can you even _ask..._ how can you ever think _I'd._.. how can you-"

"Relax, Cissy, it was just a question! Merlin's beard!"

"I don't want an affair, Meda." Narcissa settled herself in Kingsley's chair and popped open the tin. "Oh, good, chocolate. I keep eating chocolate. Whenever I'm... unsatisfied... I eat chocolate. I'm going to be fatter than Molly Weasley by Christmas."

"Leave Molly alone."

"Why? You don't like her any more than I do."

Andromeda thought for a second. "You're right, I don't. Pass me a biscuit. We'll get fat together."

"Here." Narcissa took two more, then handed her the tin. "I saw Molly in Diagon Alley on Tuesday. She expressed disappointment that her son and Hermione allowed a silly little thing like his lapse in judgment come between them. 'Lapse in judgment?' I said. 'He was cheating on her! She was a virgin, waiting for the right person, and he was off shagging witches left and right!' She took offense to that and reminded me Draco made his share of mistakes as a young man, too. I told her that my Draco is a thousand times the man her little Ginger Weasel will ever be and now Hermione's sore at me because now the Weasley family might not attend the wedding." Narcissa sent her sister withering glare. "Not that I want them there, but Hermione does, and _she's_ the bride."

"Yes, the bride is an important part of the wedding. Let it go, Cissy. Molly's issues are not your issues. Hermione is happy with Draco, she and Ron have been over for years, they're all friends now and there's no good in creating drama for the sake of drama."

"I know." Narcissa jutted out her lower lip. "But she gets under my skin. I can't help it. Her husband and my Lucius were not exactly fond of each other either. But that's neither here nor there... back to my problem..."

"Back to your problem, yes. It just so happens, I have an idea. After I'm released, you and I will go shopping. There's a seedy little place I've visited a few times in the past, where they have a number of toys and accessories and little games meant to spice up even the blandest marriage. I bought Ted naughty dice there once."

"What are naughty dice?"

"Dice are little squares, cubes, really, with six sides. They typically have dots on them... I'll show you when I get home. But the ones I bought Ted had body parts on one, actions on another, locations on a third, and durations on the fourth. You roll them and do what they direct. For example, you might get 'thighs,' 'lick,' 'kitchen table' and 'two minutes,' and then you'd have him lick your thighs for two minutes while on the kitchen table. There's a whole point system with rewards for satisfactory actions and there are punishments if a person won't or can't... Oh, you'll see, I don't need to spoil it all for you."

"Ooh!" Narcissa looked intrigued. "Yes, I'll buy those."

"You can have mine. Kingsley and I..." Andromeda bit her lip. She didn't want to confess to her sister how long it had been since they last had intercourse, but she also knew she couldn't lie. Not to a fellow Legilimens. Not without making her suspicious. "Kingsley and I are already quite adept at foreplay, thus we don't need them." That, at least, was the truth. "And the shop has a number of other... additives... that Severus may be less likely to balk at. You'd be surprised. I guarantee we will find something there to help him branch out and give you a more interesting experience. Trust me."

"Thank you." Narcissa sighed, relieved. "You are a life saver. Or a marriage saver. To be completely candid, lately I feel as though I'm having an illicit affair with the shower head and a vibrating charm."

"Ah yes." Andromeda nodded knowingly. "I used to date a shower head myself. Detachable?"

"Of course."

"We have problems."

"At least we're not alone."

They both laughed at this.

"You're looking better, Meda." Narcissa patted her sister on the forearm.

Andromeda smiled. "I'm feeling better. They said I should be discharged tomorrow, but whether it'll be before or after our therapy session with Healer Smelthwick they couldn't say. Speaking of Healer Smelthwick, she stole Kingsley shortly before you arrived and he hasn't returned. I hope nothing's wrong. If I were dying, they'd tell me, wouldn't they?"

"Probably. Or they'd tell me and I'd tell you. I promise."

"Thank you."

"Kingsley's done a fine job in your absence thought." Narcissa fiddled with her braid, which Andromeda recognized as a telltale sign she wanted to say more but was reluctant.

"Out with it."

"He would be a great father."

"You think he should leave me for Hestia?"

"What? No!" Narcissa stood, placed her elbows on Andromeda's mattress, and rested her chin in her palms. "She should choke on a bezoar and die. But what if _you_ made him a father?"

Andromeda bristled at this. "I've told you, I can't have more children."

"Are you sure? Healers are making amazing headway with reproductive assistance charms and potions. Severus and I explored some of the options when we were trying to give Hope a sibling. It's been almost a decade since your little issue, hasn't it? Perhaps, in that time, they've managed to find a way to fix-"

"You don't have the foggiest idea what a partial-hysterectomy is, do you, Cissy?"

The youngest Black sister had to confess she did not.

"But surely-"

"They can't fix what I don't have. It's not reversible and there's no cure."

"Oh." Narcissa, looking crestfallen, retook her seat. "But what if you-"

"No."

"But if you asked-"

"No."

"But maybe you could-"

"No! Narcissa, no! There is no possible way, and even if there were, I do not want another child. And Kingsley does not want a child. If that baby is his, well, we'll manage, just as I've managed with Teddy, but no, no more babies for me, not now and not ever."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa plucked the tin of biscuits off her sister's abdomen, helping herself to two more. "I hope Hermione and Draco will want babies. I hope they have at least two. He was lonely growing up, he wanted a brother or sister."

"Like Teddy."

"Yes."

"Hope and Teddy have each other. I think that's as close to a brother or sister as either of them is going to get." Andromeda quickly amended. "Save for Draco, of course."

"He's more like an uncle than a brother. Speaking of which, I hope he and Hermione are enjoying their weekend with the children! Do you suppose they'll survive to see Monday?"

"Children, plural? Is Hope with them?"

"She is! First full weekend without us, though she's done single overnights with them before. I think it was harder on Severus and I to see her go than it was for her to leave. She couldn't wait, even helped pack her little bag. Teddy, on the other hand, begged Kingsley not to send him. You'd think Draco and Hermione make it a habit of cooking children in their cauldrons the way he was carrying on. Severus and I shared a lovely adults-only dinner in Hogsmeade followed by perfectly acceptable sex during which we didn't have to keep an ear out in case she awoke. But by breakfast this morning, he and I were both depressed and missing her. He took the dog for an extra long walk so I went to visit a friend."

Andromeda's jaw dropped in mock shock. "You have friends?"

Narcissa glared back, but only for a moment before confessing, "Fine, I went to visit Hermione's mother at Malfoy Manor. Her twins are with their father this weekend so we went to brunch and drank mimosas until-"

"You did what?" Andromeda sat up straighter. Narcissa set the last biscuit back in the tin and turned slowly toward her.

"I'm sorry, I meant-"

"You were drinking?"

"Only a little. Only the mimosas. Orange juice and champagne, but mostly orange juice."

"I know what a mimosa is. You were drinking?"

Narcissa grit her teeth, squirming under her sister's harsh gaze. "Only a little, I said."

"You can't drink. You're an alcoholic. Like me. We're the same."

"Are we? Are we the same?" Narcissa set the tin on the table and went again to her sister's side. "Please, Andromeda, don't take this the wrong way, but we are _not_ the same. My issues with alcohol were never like yours. I consumed a bit too much that day we sent the Minister Bella's knife in the pie, and leading up to it I'd been imbibing too frequently, I'll admit, but I was depressed. Grieving Lucius. Confused about my feelings for Severus. And I went to that short rehabilitation and came out of it fine, without any urge to overindulge again, and I... I can handle a drink here or there, Meda. I can. Once a month, while the children are with their fathers, Hermione's mother and I go to brunch and drink mimosas and that's all, I swear. I've never even had the urge to drink at any other time."

"Does Severus know about your little brunch dates?"

Narcissa's cheeks went pink. "I may have neglected to mention our choice of beverage. But I can handle it! I'm not... you."

Andromeda nodded. "You're dead on, there. You're not me. And maybe you _can_ handle it. But what if I can't?"

"I _can."_

"I worry about you." Andromeda gripped Narcissa's hand. "You're my only sister."

"I know." Narcissa brought their hands up to her lips to kiss the back of Andromeda's. "I worry about you, too. You're _my_ only sister. And if I can't handle it, you'll be the first to know, and you can tell Severus, and he can send me back to the facility and I'll have learned my lesson and never touch it again. I promise."

"Alright then."

Narcissa opened her mouth as if to speak again, but the door swung open and there was Kingsley.

"You were gone a long time. Everything alright with Healer Smelthwick?"

"It will be," he said, but she couldn't help noticing he was slightly ashen. "Andromeda, we need to talk."

"I should go. I have errands to run, shopping to do, and I'm meeting Severus for an early dinner." Narcissa kissed Andromeda's forehead, fixed her blanket, and plucked the last chocolate biscuit from the tin. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"I'm hoping to be home by then."

Kingsley and Narcissa bid each other adieu. He locked the door.

"What is it, Kingsley?" Andromeda couldn't help employing a little Legilimency, but she couldn't read him. He was completely closed off.

"I've done something," he said. He sat in the middle of her bed, on the edge, one arm across her thighs. "Something for which I am sorry. And you deserve to know about it."

* * *

 **A/N**

Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter! I want to show their last session with Adelaide in its entirety but it would make this chapter a monster, so it's saved for C25.

To answer the Q asked by FrancineHibiscus, they're wearing bathing suits (or underwear) in the tub because I based Severus' concoction on the one I had to bathe in when I had the chicken pox as a kid. All I remember is that there were oats floating in it and I wore a bathing suit to keep them out of my more personal areas, even though, really thinking about it, the material probably didn't create all that much of a barrier. I probably didn't need to make them as sensory-squicky as I was (am) though. I'm sure Severus could whip up something non-invasive. lol :)

Thank you to Chapter 24's reviewers, **FrancineHibiscus, emrldapplejuice, Kat, Harry Hobbit, KnowInsight, lilikaco, somethingnew2016,** and **kalilje**! Also thanks to all readers and anyone following or adding to faves!

 **-AL**


	26. The Second Transition

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX**

 **THE SECOND TRANSITION**

"You're taking this well." Kingsley studied Andromeda's face. He was perched at the end of her hospital bed; she was propped up against the pillows.

She shrugged, almost as if disinterested, which was contrary to the expression she'd worn when he'd started his confession. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"You're taking this _too_ well."

She shrugged again.

"I reckon it's fair for you to have invaded my privacy in that way, considering what I do to you."

"What you... do to me?" His eyebrows rose ever-so-slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You said it earlier, during your post-Scrabble breakdown. I'm a better Legilimens than you are an Occlumens."

"...what?"

A slow smile spread across her lips. "Oh, Kingsley, darling. I adore you. But I'd be lying if I said I'd never been tempted to take a little trip into your-"

"You use Legilimency on me?"

"And what if I do?" She smiled serenely. "No, of course I don't..." The smile grew. "Unless... of course... I _do._ What do _you_ think?"

During the first war, her sister Bellatrix had been famous for her way with people, the way should could twist and trick them and make them turn on anyone, even themselves, without letting on she was doing anything more than carrying on a casual conversation. She could make them doubt themselves, their own eyes and their own memories, without even lifting her wand. There had been whispered warnings about her all over the wizarding world. This was before she was suspected of murder, before it became clear she had a penchant for physical torture that eclipsed her talent for the psychological. Andromeda hadn't been surprised to hear of it. All three girls inherited such techniques from their mother and were well-acquainted with the art of getting what they wanted from a young age. Cissy typically worked either by whining, when she was small, or by taking advantage of those who'd fall for the big blue eyes and long lashes and sweet smile as she got older. Andromeda used her gifts more rarely than the other two, as nothing she tried worked on Mother or Father, but until her infidelity had been exposed she'd used some of these tactics on Ted.

Kingsley inched up the bed, closer to Andromeda. "I think using Legilimency against any member of the Wizengamot, Auror, Unspeakable, or the Minister for Magic without their prior knowledge or consent is a crime, woman."

"A low-level crime." She waved a hand dismissively.

"A crime nonetheless."

"What are you going to do to me, then, Minister?" She dropped her voice in a way that made him shiver, a way that made his cock twitch.

She adjusted herself so she was kneeling, facing him, the blanket pooled by her knees. She undid the top two buttons of her pajama top with one hand as the fingertips of the other gently brushed down his jawline. His eyes flicked down, taking in the exposed cleavage, but immediately drew back up to her eyes. She was clearly up to something. She undid two more buttons. He wouldn't not allow himself another look.

"What is this, Andromeda?"

"I've committed a crime," she pouted, feigning remorse. "I've done a terrible thing. Are you going to _punish_ me? Minister? _Please,_ punish me. _Punish me_ for using Legilimency on you, for breaking the law." She ran her thumb along his bottom lip, puffing out her own lower lip, blinking up at him with her chin tilted downward. "Sir, Minister, I have been a very _bad_ witch. And isn't it your job - the job of any _man_ in your _position_ \- to teach bad witches a lesson? To teach me a lesson? To _punish_ me? Hm?"

Fuck, she drove him wild.

"But you didn't mean it, though, did you?" His hand threaded into the back of her hair as he took the same kneeling position. He wondered if she could hear his heart beating like bongo drums. "You were only needling me. You don't use Legilimenc-"

"Don't I?" She widened her eyes, still blinking innocently up at him. "Would that be any worse than what you've done, reading my file? One is an invasion of my privacy and the other an invasion of yours. We both break laws as it suits us, don't we? So, I suppose, if you punish me I'll have to do the same to you."

"I am certain you're teasing me."

But he wasn't quite certain.

"You know I love to tease." She pressed her palms to his abdomen and slid them up his chest, settling on his shoulders, shimmying herself forward until her half-exposed breasts were barely brushing against his pecs. "But you were correct in your assumption that I am a better Legilimens than you are an Occlumens, thus if I _have_ really been reading you without permission, well, you'll never know, will you?"

"I could use Veritaserum on you." He leaned forward until their mouths were nearly touching. Her breath danced across his lips when she replied.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I? I break laws as it suits me."

"Did you find anything of interest in my file, love?" She brought her hand down between them and palmed over his trousers, feeling evidence of his building erection. "Anything you feel better for knowing?"

Their lips were still lightly touching.

"What are you doing to me, Andromeda Tonks?"

"Only giving you the _punishment_ you deserve for having stuck your nose..." She rubbed her nose against his. "Where it did not belong."

"What are you going to do?" He sounded desperate, almost pained. A cheshire cat grin grew across her face.

"Would you like to come in my mouth, Kingsley, or-"

He groaned. His erection was growing. This was not good. They could not do this here. He would not do this here. He could only imagine what Healer Smelthwick would say at tomorrow's session if they were caught shagging in her hospital bed today. She kept her volume low, her tone husky, as she rubbed him.

"I'll drink you down like Veritaserum, but with slightly adjusted results - when you're fully sated, your mind is most open, and that's when..."

He did not protest as she unfastened his trousers. Her hand slipped into his pants and began stroking his length.

 _"Fuck..."_

"That's when you'll be the one unable to tell anything but the truth. Not that I'll have to ask questions. I'll simply see into your-"

"Why are you tormenting me, woman?"

"Why did you peruse my personal file, Minister?"

"I was curious."

"As am I." She shimmied his trousers down, exposing both his arse and his rapidly hardening cock. When she gently cupped his bollocks in her right hand, it took all of his willpower not to grab her and throw her on her back, to divest her of her clothing and fuck her into mutual oblivion.

"You're not angry with me?" he asked, fighting a moan. She ran her thumb over the tip of his cock and flicked out her tongue against his lower lip.

"Yes, I'm angry."

"Then... why... uhhhh..."

She was squeezing his cock now, stroking it and lightly squeezing it and bringing him closer and closer to the brink... it had been too bloody long since he'd last _had_ her, since they were in the facility, and between the memory of that, the reminder of the last time they'd fucked while here at St. Mungo's, and what she as doing now, he was rapidly losing his ability to concentrate.

"Tell me what you read in my file, Minister. Tell me what was worth breaking the law and..." She pressed her lips to his rather roughly. "And invading my privacy."

"I... nothing. Nothing you don't already know."

She sped up the movement with her hand, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. She grabbed his wrist with her free hand and guided his fingers into her knickers.

"Fuck me, Minister. With your fingers. Now."

He didn't have to rub her long before she was ready. She let out a breathy moan as he entered her with his first and middle fingers, then began rocking her hips, grinding her mons into his palm, which nearly put him over the edge.

"I'm going to... I'm going to..."

"Read anything that surprised you? Anything you'd like to ask me about?" She kissed him, hard, preventing him from answering (not that he was able to form coherent thoughts in the moment).

"Let me come in your mouth," he pleaded once she pulled back. He was only vaguely aware that this was wrong and he should put a stop to it. She was, after all, here because she was ill.

She put her mouth to his ear, tickling the lobe with her lips. "Know what I want? For you to come in my mouth while that Amsterdam barmaid does to me with her tongue what you're doing now with your fingers. Can you see her in your memories, Kingsley? Can you see her with me? Can you envision her licking me? I want that. Think about it. Think about her doing it while you come in my mouth. Now."

That was it for him. He was exploding into her hand, but before he had the chance to even process what was happening, she dropped his cock, grabbed him by the chin, forced eye contact, and directed her wand at his face.

 _"LEGILIMENS."_

And then she was seeing through his eyes, simultaneously perusing her own file and hearing Healer Smelthwick's lecturing voice in her head.

 _"...You have no right to another person's medical history or test results, especially when you neither asked her permission nor ever intended to tell her you'd perused her file. You violated her in reading through that, and I do not use that word loosely. How can she trust you? How can I? You abused your power at her expense."_

"Stop!"

She could feel him trying to push her out, using Occlumency to the best of his ability, attempting to block, but while sexual release made him weak, the buildup and lack thereof made her strong.

Once she'd seen all she wanted to, she retreated from his mind, pressed a quick chaste kiss to his lips, and flopped back onto her pillows.

"You can pleasure me now," she said, wriggling her hips. "It's your turn."

But he was not amused.

"Why would you do that, Andromeda?" He climbed off the bed, fixed his trousers, went for his wand, and vanished the ejaculate that had gotten on his shirt and the bed.

"I wanted to know what you'd read and exactly what Healer Smelthwick had seen."

"You could have asked me! You didn't have to-"

 _"You_ could have asked _me!"_ She laughed. "You could have asked me, but you chose to read my-"

"So that's what that was? My punishment?"

"You're welcome. Your lucky, you know. Some angry witches give wizards the silent treatment. Wouldn't you say what I gave you was considerably more satisfying?"

He scowled. "I suppose I deserved it."

"No, you deserved for me to hex off your bollocks, not wank off your-"

"I get it." He closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I do not like it when you perform Legilimency on me, but you made your point just as Healer Smelthwick did when she pulled out my file. I am genuinely sorry. It was wrong of me and I knew it was wrong."

"I forgive you."

"Do you?"

She slipped out of bed and into his lap in the chair, straddling him. She gently brushed his fingers away from his temples, replacing them with hers, and applied pressure the way he liked.

"After all we've been through together in the last six months, you think I'm going to hold a grudge because you read that? I only wish you'd told me. I wasn't even allowed to read it. It was on the end of my bed for all twelve of those weeks, charmed so that only a Healer could open it.

"What? It was?" The Healer hadn't mentioned that. He'd had no idea he'd been given access to information she was being denied. This only increased the sick feeling of guilt sloshing around in his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize again." She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him again, and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "I want them to discharge me. I want to go home with you. I want to cook a decent meal and clean out my cupboards and sleep with my favorite former Auror."

"I wish I could make that happen for you, but unfortunately Mad-Eye Moody is dead, remember?"

She snorted, but kept her head down, her nose barely brushing against his neck. "I was referring to you, of course, but since you mention Mad-Eye, I believe it's worth pointing out that _Nymphadora_ is my favorite former Auror. I should have said I wanted to go home and sleep with my third favorite former Auror."

"Third?"

"Yes. You rank after Nymphadora... _and_ Mad-Eye."

He chuckled.

"You know, though, love. It's damn lucky for you that You-Know-Who didn't have his right-hand witch, my lovely sister, give you a jobby before you battled him in the Great Hall. He would have destroyed you."

Kingsley shook his head, though inwardly he was surprised by this casual mention of Bellatrix given her insecurities relating to their resemblance. "I would have been fine. Minerva McGonagall was there, too. He was no match for her."

Andromeda, smiling thoughtfully, leaned back to button her shirt, then kissed the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for not dying."

He returned the kiss. "It was the least I could do."

Only a short time later, Andromeda got one of her wishes. She was finally deemed healthy enough to return home.

She went straight to the kitchen.

"You're not going to cook for me tonight! They said you need to rest. You have a schedule." Kingsley held up the piece of parchment Healer Tucker had sent home with them. "Rest, small, simple meal if necessary, soothing bath, apply salves, take potions, early to bed, full night's sleep."

"Or... and stay with me here... _Or..._ I could cook something." Grinning, she rummaged through the refrigerator. "Doesn't have to be anything too taxing, I'm not even terribly hungry, but I need something with flavor. St. Mungo's cuisine leaves something to be desired."

"I'll cook for you, then. You sit at the table. Do a crossword." He guided her into a chair, but the moment he backed away she hopped up, laughing.

"Love, you can't cook!"

"You can talk me through."

"It's easier if I do it myself." She returned to the fridge, pulled out two bottles of butterbeer and handed him one. "I want breakfast. Breakfast is my favorite meal and it's the worst they make at St. Mungo's. Let's see..." She bustled around the small kitchen. "I have eggs, I have bread, I have sausage. Ooh, want scotch eggs? Not breakfast but..." She rummaged through the cabinets. "Or, if that's not filling enough, I could fry them, make beans and toast, grilled tomatoes, mushrooms. Oh, I know! Know what we haven't had in an age? Scotch woodcock. Do I have anchovy paste? I doubt I have ancho-"

"Fried eggs, toast, beans. I can manage that." He took her by the upper arms and guided her again to a chair. "You sit."

"I'll make tea."

"I can make tea."

"Coffee, then." She stood. "I'll make-"

"You need to rest!" He guided her back to the chair for a third time. "Healer Tucker was abundantly clear that you were to engage in no taxing activi-"

"I should have told him how invigorated I felt after our taxing activity this morning, perhaps that it energized rather than exhausted me would have eased his mind." She smiled cheekily up at him. He smiled back, pressed his lips to her forehead, and went to the breadbox.

"I will fry us two eggs each with toast and beans and that's enough. It's too late for a meal anyway."

"And then we'll deep-clean the kitchen, take a sensual bath together, and shag each other to sleep?"

"A bath for soaking purposes only, and then straight to bed, where we will sleep without shagging, because you are supposed to be-"

"You're no fun."

"What are you thinking?" He retrieved a pan in which to fry the eggs. "Do you want to relapse and end up returned to St. Mungo's?"

The smile slipped from her face. "Kingsley, Dragon Pox isn't like drug addiction. Failure to follow the Healer's orders to the letter is not going to land me back there. My spots are fading, my color is back to normal, I don't feel as weak or dizzy as I did on Monday and I'm two days fever-free. I appreciate that you want to take care of me, love, but I'm not going to _die_ if I fry an egg or share a bath with you."

"You were weak when I brought you there. I could hardly rouse you, Teddy was worried, your skin burned like Fiendfyre. He slept with me all week, spent half his days pacing, worrying about you. I was worried about you, too. Let me worry about you."

"Alright, then." She relaxed into the chair. Truthfully, she was a bit tired. She hadn't walked around much over the last week, nor had she slept well despite extreme exhaustion, and she might have been a bit too ambitious in wanting to make a meal and reorganize her cupboards and end their sexual dry spell all in the first night back home.

The eggs he fried were a bit too runny, the toast was a little too dark, and he tossed into the beans more than enough cheese, but overall the meal was relatively palatable and she ate it all.

They then skipped the kitchen cleanup, took that soothing bath, and went to bed. As soon as she'd crawled in under the covers she relinquished any hope of continuing what she'd started in the hospital bed, closed her eyes, and drifted off.

When he awoke the next morning, it was to discover he was in bed alone.

"Fuck." He pulled on a pair of pajama pants - he could sleep naked, but once out of the comfort of the covers the cold October air was most unpleasant - and went off in search of her, expecting to find her in the kitchen, cleaning.

He heard muffled sobbing coming from Teddy's room.

Formerly Nymphadora's room.

He knocked gently on the door. Though she did not respond, he entered momentarily.

She was kneeling on the floor in front of the open wardrobe, her hair fallen forward, shoulders shaking, tears dripping freely onto the parchment in her hands. She wore only knickers and an oversized Quidditch World Cup commemorative shirt that had been his, until she decided it was better suited to her body, and he could see she wasn't as completely spot-free as he'd thought - there was three large purple blotches on her upper left thigh.

He moved closer to her, surveying the scene. There was more parchment - letters, it looked - strewn all around, in her lap and on the floor, and a mirror standing up up inside the nearly empty wardrobe through which he could see her reflection, and his own. He settled on the floor beside her.

"What's this?"

"Oh... nothing." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, fighting to keep from continuing to cry. "I wanted to see myself, to see if all the spots were really gone, to see my complexion, whether it's still a twinge green."

"I thought all the mirrors were..."

"All but this one." She tapped the glass. "After Nymphadora died, I shattered every mirror in this house to keep from... from seeing her bloody _murderer_ staring at me from every room. There used to be a large one over the mantle and a freestanding one in my bedroom and another full-length on the back of the door in the loo, plus a small gilded hand mirror in my bedside table drawer - that was an heirloom - a plastic play mirror hanging over Teddy's crib, and this one. This one was hers and I couldn't bring myself to break it. She made it, see? This." She ran her fingers along the frame. The glass was about eight inches by eleven set into a wooden freestanding frame painted with all the bright colors of the rainbow, decorated with glitter and a few gaudy pompoms. "She took an art class, a Muggle art class, when she was seven. She loved it and she was very proud of this. She gave it to me for Mother's Day. We used to..." Andromeda took in a shaky breath. Kingsley slipped an arm protectively around her.

"I had it on my dressing table. She would sit and look at herself while I fixed her hair, and, later, while she practiced changing her hair color, learning new noses, she..." Andromeda looked away from her reflection. "She asked if I'd mind if she borrowed it when she went to Hogwarts and brought it back home when she was finished her schooling. She never lived on her own, you know. She lived here, then at Hogwarts, and back here. Some girls want to get their own flat, or live with girlfriends, or find a boyfriend, but even after she married she lived here. And this remained in my bedroom, on the little table, and when she was pregnant I started fixing her hair again because she couldn't morph it and had no idea how to style it herself. She couldn't plait or pull it into a bun; she had never been interested in the spells I taught her, nor did she learn how the Muggle way."

Andromeda pressed the parchment in her hand into his. "I've been writing her letters. In the facility I did it because Adelaide told me to, but I've written a dozen since, and I hide them in here. Look..." She turned the mirror around. On the back was a little door which opened to reveal a shallow compartment. She turned it back around, again checking out her reflection.

"I have wrinkles around my eyes and a line here on my forehead. They weren't there before... before she died. Not the gray either. And a couple of white eyebrow hairs. I've aged two decades in five years."

He glanced down at the letter she'd given him.

"Some letters are long and full of all the things I loved - love - about her. But some are... angrier. And one I wrote... before. I wrote one the night I... the night I... you know, that night. I hid it in the mirror when I checked on Teddy, before I went downstairs for the second syringe."

The handwriting was not her usual. It was sloppy and erratic, as if written while on a moving broomstick, but legible.

 _Dear Nymphadora,_

 _I told you not to go to Hogwarts._

 _I told you it wasn't your fight._

 _I told you to let the others handle it._

 _I said it was too dangerous._

 _But you went, didn't you?_

 _You went even though I told you not to._

 _And you promised to come back, but you didn't come back._

 _You're a liar._

 _And I hate you._

 _I hate you for dying._

 _I hate you for breaking your promise._

 _I hate you for leaving Teddy with me._

 _I've never hated anyone more than I hate you in this moment._

 _How could you do this to me?_

 _How could you make me hate my own child?_

 _That was very selfish of you._

 _Love,_

 _Mummy_

"I was a nasty person when I was using, wasn't I?"

"Not always," he answered honestly. "Have you shared these letters with Adelaide?"

"No. I didn't tell her I'd written any before the facility, nor did I tell her I've written more since, but as this morning is our last session, _my_ last session, I thought about..." Andromeda shook her head. "No. I don't want her to know the awful things I've put to parchment."

"Are they all like that?"

"No. Some are more pathetic." She rifled through parchment until she found the one she wanted, which she handed over.

 _Dear Nymphadora,_

 _I don't know how a parent is supposed to go on living once her child has died. I presume mothers with more children continue living because they have more children. They have to live for those children. To that end, I suppose I have to continue living, for Teddy's sake. He's lost his mother and father and grandfather all in quick succession. His godfather is a child and he hasn't got a godmother. No aunts or uncles. No cousins or siblings. I am all he has, and for that reason, I cannot join you wherever you are, wherever those brave enough to avoid the permanency of ghosthood go after they've died, but you should know I think about it every day. _

_Every day I wonder if Teddy would be better off with someone else, someone less damaged, someone who wants to go on living rather than someone who does it only because she owes it to a grandson she initially did not want. How badly I wish I could tell you I'm sorry for not wanting him. As you know, I did not think his father was good enough for you. I did not think he could provide for you, nor did I think marrying him was a safe or smart thing to do - but I do love that your father and I raised you to be the sort of person who could fall in love with a werewolf and tell your parents to our faces how ignorant and bigoted we were being by not allowing him in the house. I cannot imagine having ever stood in front of my mother and telling her I wanted to marry Ted, nor would I have ever had the backbone to demand my father accept a person he deemed lesser as a son-in-law. You did. And we let him in, and while I still worried, I could see why you loved him and that he loved you. I'm sorry for any additional stress it caused you to have parents who didn't treat him well from the start. I'm sorry that I'll never be as open-minded and loving and accepting and beautiful a person as you are, but it gives me great pride to have created and raised you and I like to think that some small part of those qualities came from me._

 _I learned to love Teddy long before he was born. From the moment he took his first breath my love for him was surpassed only by my love for you. I wish I'd been a better mother. Perhaps, if I'd been a better mother, you would have listened when I begged you not to go that night. You would have stayed home with me and your son, where it was safe. Maybe, if I'd been a better mother, I wouldn't have saddled you with an aunt who wanted you dead because she wanted to hurt me. I realize it's my fault. My fault for not keeping you home, my fault for being the sister of a madman's mistress, my fault for pushing you into your unwavering loyalty to Lupin by not accepting him as I should have._

 _Teddy is two tomorrow. Harry Potter is having a small party for him at Grimmauld Place, my late aunt and uncle's home, where I have many memories, all negative. I would honestly rather celebrate alone, here, just me and my darling little boy, but I cannot deny those who loved him access to him, nor do I want to stop him from having the best possible birthday. He adores Harry and Hermione and the Weasleys and they love him, so I'll grin and bear it and perhaps drink a little more than I usually would on a weeknight (I promise, though, I've not been overindulging. Every time I take a sip of anything stronger than elfmade red wine I can see you in my mind's eye, pursing your lips into a frown, shaking your head, reminding me of the past. I have, therefore, had very little to drink as of late, and I was stone sober twenty-three months before I got pissed with Narcissa last summer. I don't want sweet Teddy raised by a hopeless alcoholic as you were)._

 _I miss you every moment of every day._

 _Love,_

 _Mummy_

"Until he was some sixteen months old, I didn't touch a drop of alcohol. When he was two, I worried about him being raised by an alcoholic, about what would happen if I lose control. By the time he was five, I was so much worse off than I could have ever imagined. What happened to me, Kingsley?"

"I don't know." He placed the parchment on the floor and repositioned them so she was sitting in front of him, with his arms around her.

"Am I weak?"

"Anything but." He kissed her cheek.

"When I destroyed the mirror at the facility, I wondered whether there would ever be a time I could look at myself without seeing her face. But today..." She picked up the mirror and brought it close to her face. "I never saw her with wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, or a line in her forehead. Did she have gray hair?"

"I don't know."

"I'm older than she'll ever be. I suppose that means, as I age, I'll look less and less like her. Know what I mean?"

"I do." He kissed her again. "But I don't see her when I see you."

"So you've said."

"Your eyes are bright and thoughtful, and when you laugh, it's because you're teasing me or because you're amused by something Teddy has said or done. She laughed when she hurt others, and there was no gentleness in her expressions, no light in her eyes. She was mad. She looked mad. Her chin was more pointed than yours..." He ran his thumb along her chin. "And her nose didn't have this bump, did it?" He touched the slight bump in the bridge of hers.

"I fractured it when Nymphadora was three. She accidentally made our breadbox explode during a tantrum. Part of it caught me in the face."

"Bellatrix never had a daughter to fracture her nose. She was gaunt and sallow skinned from Azkaban, not soft and green-twinged like you."

Andromeda snorted and swatted at his arm. "How nice."

He slid one hand down, over her abdomen.

"And I never saw her naked, but I'd bet my entire Gringotts vault she didn't have this little pouch and stretch marks on her hips..."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"Because she never carried and bore a child, as you did."

Andromeda sighed. "The first time I got sober, I dropped three stone. It was the thinnest I've been since Hogwarts, and I still had that little gathering of fat there. It wouldn't go away."

"You have the witch's mark I love so much..." His hand traveled there next. "And the scars on your back that remind me you're as brave as any Auror I've ever had under me..."

"Just how many Aurors have you had under you, Minister?" she teased, knowing full-well he'd meant in a professional sense. He pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"Your hair was the feature that most made you resemble her, until you cut it off-"

"It's growing back now-"

"But even when it was wild, even when you let it loose, I never saw her. Only you."

"Harry Potter saw her. When he was transported to my home, the night Moody was killed, remember? I told you how he jumped up and-"

"And we both know Hermione Granger was always the brains of that operation, eh?"

"And Thorfinn Rowle-"

"Was a sick man who used your thoughts against you. He preyed on your insecurities, exacerbated your self-loathing. We talked about this. His goal was to cause you as much harm as possible. Do not take to heart a damn thing he said."

"When Teddy was... I don't remember how old. Three? Four? A year or two ago. I read him the fairy tale Snow White. It features a queen who wants Snow White killed because she is no longer the most beautiful. After I closed the book, Teddy said, 'Nana, you look like Snow White.' I said 'Oh, Teddy, I don't.' He said, 'Yes, you look the same!" and pointed to her picture on the cover. She has pale skin, white as snow, and hair black as coal and lips red as blood. He said, 'Nana's the most beautiful in all the land!' I wonder, if I showed him a photograph of my sister, whether he'd think-"

Kingsley shook his head. "Andromeda, why do you seek to torture yourself? If he sees a resemblance, you'll be devastated. If he doesn't, you won't go on thinking you look any less like her than you do when I tell you that you don't."

"I wish you could have known Nymphadora better."

"I knew her. We worked together."

"Known her better. Known who she was outside of work."

Kingsley thought about pointing out he'd seen her outside work - on Order business, and behaving like a child to entertain the other children at Grimmauld Place - but he merely nodded and said, "I would have liked that."

"In a few short hours, Healer Smelthwick will be here, and we'll have our last session." She craned her neck and twisted her torso to make eye contact. "I'm afraid to be through with therapy. I'm afraid I'll fall apart, once she's not coming each week to hold me accountable, to talk me through... things. Teddy will be home tomorrow morning and our lives will... our lives will continue and... and what if I'm not strong enough?"

"Be honest with me and I'll be honest with you. And if you need more therapy, or if we need it together, we'll ask if she's willing to return. The end of this session doesn't have to be the end of everything."

"I'm not healed yet." She turned her gaze back to the letters, gathering them into a pile, sniffling. The tears were coming again. She couldn't hold them off. "Kingsley? I woke up from a dream about Nymphadora this morning, and the first thing I wanted to do was have a drink."

* * *

 **A/N:**

The last session with Healer Smelthwick will be in the next chapter, the start of Part Three. Teddy will also come home. Then, in the following chapter, to lighten things up, Andromeda will be taking Narcissa to the sex shop... Hermione and a 'special guest' or two might even be tagging along! XD Thanks for reading, and thank you to my Chapter 25 reviewers: **Sassanech, PopularCats, somethingnew2016, lilikaco, emrldapplejuice, clarasnotlikely, FrancineHibiscus,** and **kalilje**. As always, I hugely appreciate them!

 **-AL**


	27. Part Three: Week 1

**CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK ONE**

"Do you like my cat family, Nana?" Teddy asked, staring up at Andromeda from the sitting room floor. His eyes were wide and steel gray today, like cousin Draco's, and his hair was electric blue. The cat family in question were little dolls on loan from his therapist, Artemisia Bonham. Each one stood erect, like a person, as tall as six inches, and they all wore people-clothes, save for the smallest, which wore a nappy. They were covered in fuzzy 'fur' with cat-like features to their faces and pointy ears (tails, but no whiskers). They were currently living in Nymphadora's old wooden dollhouse. The Healer had over a dozen of the creepy little things (well, Andromeda found them creepy, at any rate) but she'd let Teddy hold onto only six until they would see each other again on Monday. He had selected them with great care.

He'd chosen to keep the ones he dubbed Mummy Cat, Daddy Cat, Baby Cat, Brother Cat, Sister Cat, and the one he was calling Harry Potter Cat because it wore wire-framed glasses. Andromeda was a little uneasy with the fact that he'd expressed no desire to hold onto Grandmother Cat, who had gray human-like hair pulled into a bun and a flowery dress, but she felt much better when he explained, "She looks like a old lady, not like my nana!"

The week had been an up-and-down one, though the peaks were higher than the valleys were low. It had started off on a difficult but decidedly positive note, as Andromeda and Kingsley shared their last couples therapy session.

Adelaide Smelthwick sat in her usual seat, her quill and parchment at the ready, watching her patients carefully over tented fingers.

"During our last session, I asked each of you to pen two letters. One to yourselves, and one to each other. Did you do so?"

Both Kingsley and Andromeda nodded.

"I'd like us to share. Would either of you volunteer to go first?"

There was a pregnant pause, during which neither looked at the other.

"I suppose I will," answered Andromeda finally, as she could feel Kingsley's apprehension growing from across the couch.

"Thank you. When you're ready."

"I'm ready. I... you should know, I wrote mine while hospitalized, over those first couple of days when I was feverish, and..." She reached for her favorite pillow, the one with the fringe. It was a comfort to wrap the hanging yarn around her fingers while she spoke, and the material gave her something to look at. "I suppose you could say it was difficult, psychologically, being back in a hospital setting. That first night, after Kingsley had gone home to Teddy, I spent too much time thrashing, unable to sleep, and mentally right back in the facility at the start of my forced commitment." She glanced quickly at Kingsley, but tore her eyes away before they met his. "My letter, therefore, reflects how I felt at that time more so than it does how I feel now."

"We are here to listen, not to judge," said the Healer gently. Andromeda nodded.

 _"Dear Andromeda,_

 _"Healer Smelthwick is back on the 'writing yourself letters' thestral dung again, thus here I am. In particular, she wishes for me to focus on the topic of suicide, because Kingsley ratted me out, telling her the truth about how I ended up in the facility in the first place, why I'd consumed so much of that bloody poison concoction bought from that loathsome cretin Thorfinn Rowle. I am currently in my bed in St. Mungo's, with nothing but a quill and parchment to keep me company, trying to remind myself of all I'd rather suppress. She calls this therapeutic. Because nothing makes me think 'I want to live' more than spending six straight days reminiscing about all of the times I've wanted to die, yes? Such a brilliant woman she is, so adept at her job, I can only imagine this must serve some purpose, but at the moment it seems..."_

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said the Healer, not looking sorry, "I know I said I wouldn't judge, but I _am_ curious - are you snarky and unpleasant throughout the _entire_ letter, or just here in the opening?"

Andromeda scowled as Kingsley hid a chuckle. She ran her forefinger about two paragraphs down the page before starting again.

 _"The first time I thought I'd rather be dead than alive, I was perhaps five. Mother was angry with me. I had embarrassed her and Father at Borgin and Burkes. Father was there to buy back an heirloom Uncle Orion sold. Mr. Borgin asked Father why Uncle had sold it. Father said his brother hadn't realized it was an actual heirloom, and mistakingly thought it had belonged to a disowned deceased relative, thus he'd wanted it out of their home but saw no reason to part with it for free._

 _"I piped up, 'But Father, I thought you said Uncle sold it because he lost his cloak above the betting parlor?' Mr. Borgin laughed and I thought perhaps I'd been clever; Bella was clever, she often made adults laugh, and Father laughed the loudest. But neither of my parents laughed at what I'd said. Father ordered Mother to take me out. She did so, with Cissy in her pram, leaving Bella behind._

 _"When we got home, he was angry at Mother for my behavior. He struck her across the face twice and stalked from the room with indignant, haughty Bella on his heels. Then Mother wrenched my arm and slapped the backs of my thighs several times, more times than I could count at age five, and she said, 'If you couldn't have been born a boy, you shouldn't have been born at all.'_

 _"I did not know the word suicide then, or even know that killing one's self was possible, but all afternoon her words replayed in my head. I was desperate to either figure out a way I could become a boy, or a way I could not be born at all. I wanted to please her, but I also wanted to cease to exist. It was years before I recognized this as the first time I wanted to die."_

Andromeda set the letter in her lap and slowly rose her eyes to meet Adelaide's. "I also wrote about the first time I tried to do it, the last time I tried, and the times I've only thought about it. And how I feel when I think about it. It's a long letter. You don't want to hear it in its entirety."

"On the contrary," said Adelaide softly. "I want to hear as much as you're willing to share."

"You were _five?"_ Kingsley, to her left, sounded horrified. She couldn't look at him, not even when he reached to take her hand between his.

"Let's refrain from further commentary for now, please, Minister." Adelaide waved her hand and the quill positioned itself over the floating parchment. "Please, continue."

 _"The first time I... attempted... it, it was during the Christmas holiday. Bella was home from her first four months at Hogwarts. Mother and Father made it a point to tell her how very proud they were to hear she was excelling in her studies. Neither of my parents were educated well or for long and they'd considered not sending Bella at all, but Deputy Headmistress McGonagall and head of Slytherin house Horace Slughorn had come to our home in late August to implore my parents to allow their daughter to be educated, despite the fact that the new Headmaster had a reputation as a 'Muggle Lover.' They're reminded my parents that Phineas Nigellus Black, my father's great-grandfather, had been Headmaster, and that the Black family once held education in high esteem. Professor McGonagall asked whether they wanted us to die out like the Gaunts had, and like the Flints and Travers were in danger of doing, the combined result of uneducated inbreeding and early deaths. Mother and Father were even prouder of their inclusion in the Sacred Twenty-Eight than they were of Bella's intellect or Narcissa's beauty, and that did it for them. McGonagall sent a letter home with Bella over Christmas, assuring my parents they'd made the right choice, and highlighting her talent for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms._

 _"The morning after Bella returned home, Mother dragged me to a Healer - or, she claimed he was a Healer - for an evaluation. 'Something is wrong with this one,' she told him. He glanced me over, then looked hungrily at Cissy. 'I should examine the little one, too,' he said. 'No,' said Mother. 'It's this one who gives us trouble. She says what she shouldn't, she has a short attention span, she daydreams and walks into walls, she's constantly questioning the truth as we've told it to her, and sometimes we catch her biting her own arms, like an animal. My friends say she may be dim, mentally. Oh, and she bears an unsightly marking on her thigh that cannot be removed.'_

 _'A birth mark?' he asked. 'No,' said Mother. 'It was not there when she was born.'"_

Kingsley and Adelaide exchanged a pointed glance.

"You didn't tell her?" mouthed the Healer. He slowly shook his head. Andromeda, missing this, continued to read.

 _"He looked disappointed to be denied Cissy, and though I didn't understand why, I was terrified when he took me into another room, alone. In retrospect, I am fortune nothing more traumatizing occurred. He closely examined my thigh and tried both freezing and burning off the mark - neither worked, but both made me scream - and he put me through a series of what I now recognize as mental aptitude and physical fitness tests: I had to stand on my toes and stretch, catch a ball flying fast at my face, answer a series of confusing questions, spell my name backwards... that sort of nonsense. He came to the conclusion I was neither dim nor particularly bright. I was... average. And the birthmark was a birthmark, nothing more."_

"It wasn't," said Kingsley. "In your file... that birthmark wasn't a birthmark. I should have told you, but the way you reacted to my confession caught me by surprised and it slipped my mind."

"What?"

"It was a burn. Your father threw a potion at you when you were small. It burned you. You saw a Healer when you were... three?" He looked to Adelaide for confirmation.

"Three." The Healer nodded. "I wasn't aware that you didn't know, or I would have told you. A governess brought you to St. Mungo's. It was in your file. I don't know why your mother-"

"Father fired her." Andromeda closed her eyes, trying to picture the woman who'd cared for them when they were small, the one who'd acted as wet nurse for baby Cissy and flinched whenever five-year-old Bella got sharp with her. "I remember Father firing her. He choked her... he was angry..." She could picture him holding the woman against the wall by the door, his hand on her throat, the other entangled in her hair. She was crying. Toddler Andromeda was crying. Bella and Cissy and Mother were not in the room.

 _"Are you trying to bring the Ministry here? Do you want to see me sent to Azkaban? You seek to ruin my family over an accident, a mistake? You brainless cunt."_

 _He'd been drinking. Andromeda could smell the cinnamon whisky on his breath even from her place on the floor. Mother drank it too. It always made Mother mean. It didn't always make Father mean, but when he was mean, he was meaner than Mother. Andromeda was afraid._

 _"I wanted... to help... the girl..." sputtered the governess._

 _"Get out. Get out and tell no one about this." He threw her away from him. She caught herself on the doorframe, stopping herself from falling. She and Andromeda made eye contact. She did not say goodbye. She hurried down the hall to the door, and then she was gone._

 _"You're nothing but trouble," said Father, now grabbing Andromeda by the hair. "BELLATRIX! COME GET YOUR SISTER OUT OF MY STUDY."_

"She brought me to St. Mungo's," whispered Andromeda, only vaguely remembering. They'd put her in a pink and yellow hospital gown and sat her on an examination table and had a Healer murmur foreign-sounding words while waving a wand close to her skin. "It was a burn? I don't remember being burned. I..." She felt her cheeks go hot and knew her face was turning as purple as the port wine - no... as the burn. She turned to Kingsley. "But you said you love it. You call it a-"

"I _do_ love it. I love your body, I've told you that. Every curve, every freckle, every scar... every burn." He took her hand and brought her forefinger up to his lips to kiss the pad. She'd burned herself there pretty badly shortly after they'd started dating, while cooking for him. He knew a few Healing charms from his Auror studies and had cooled it for her, preventing a blister, though it had taken days for the red mark to fade.

"Will you finish the story in your letter?" asked Adelaide. After a pause, and still looking dazed, Andromeda nodded.

 _"When we returned home, I overheard Mother telling Father how disappointed she was to learn there was no fixing me. I did not understand. I tried very hard - much harder than my sisters - to be the perfect daughter. I did what they told me to. I tried to remember to speak only when spoken to. I never dirtied my dresses or ate with my elbows on the table. I did not argue with Mother as Bella did or whine to Father like Cissy. It seemed the only thing I'd done wrong - which I could never amend - was being born female when they wanted a boy, but for reasons I'll never understand they were not furious at my younger sister for the same thing. Perhaps because she was so pretty. I went into their fourth-storey bedroom and crawled out their window onto the ledge, then hoisted myself onto the roof, which sloped. I sat there for some time, lost in thought, and finally decided the only way I could stop being a disappointment was to stop being. I stood. I jumped."_

"You jumped off a roof?" Kingsley gripped her hand more tightly in his. She tapped the his knuckles, a nonverbal request to relax his grip.

 _"I had my eyes closed. I do not know how close to the ground I was when everything seemed to slow, and when I opened them again I was suspended perhaps this far..." She held her free forefinger and thumb about five inches apart. "From the dirt. I felt flat onto my face the rest of the way. I thought Mother might have saved me and rolled over expecting to be punished but hoping to be hugged, only to see Bella with her new, crooked wand in one hand, the other on her hip._

 _"'What are you trying to do?' she asked. 'Kill yourself?' I answered, 'Yes' and she laughed. 'That's stupid,' she said. 'And selfish. If you die the only sister I'll have is that obnoxious, whiny little muppet, which will make me so miserable I shall have to kill myself too, and what a waste of perfectly good pureblood magic.' She didn't ask what made me do it, but she did make me promise not to do it again."_

Andromeda smiled sadly at the Healer. "I loved my older sister more than anyone else in the world, then. Being estranged from her hurt as much as the rejection from my parents. She wrote me letters after I left, begging me to come home. They couldn't be bothered to ask me back, and Cissy wouldn't dare go against them. Sometimes I wish they were alive to see us now. I want them to know their beautiful baby daughter married a half-blood and bore his baby, that she helped bring about the defeat of You-Know-Who and that her son is about to marry a Muggleborn. I want them to know that their mad eldest daughter went to Azkaban, where she lost a baby, and that she so deeply devoted herself to a monster that she killed for him and died for him, and that she murdered her own niece. And, petty as it sounds, I want them to know that unremarkable _me_ ended up with the fucking _Minister for Magic,_ who just happens to be a member of the Sacred Twenty-eight and far better looking, more intelligent, and kinder than that grotesque and cruel middle Lestrange brother they wanted to see me wed to. I wish they were alive so they could see how much better off Cissy and I are without them, and I want them alive to grieve Bella as I've grieved Nymphadora." Her voice took on a hardened tone and her expression darkened, greatly increasing her resemblance to Bellatrix. She slipped her hand free from Kingsley's to grip the pillow with both, digging her short nails into the cloth. She glared across the room into the fireplace as she spoke.

"I want my parents to be alive today because I want to watch them hurt as I hurt. I want to see how'd they react to losing their favorite daughter to that blood traitor Molly Weasley. I want to see how they'd handle having a great-grandchild born to their darling grandson and his Mudblood wife. _I want my parents alive because I want them to suffer."_

"Fuck, Andromeda," said Kingsley, almost under his breath.

He and Adelaide were both staring at her with concern. She shook her head, loosened her grip on the pillow, and turned to him apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for... that word. I'm sorry I-"

"Come here." He wrapped his arms around her upper body, drawing her close, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"It isn't fair. They resented me, they disliked me and undervalued me and care less for me my entire life and all I did to deserve it was not being born a boy. That's what it was, really." She shoved Kingsley away and stood up, stalked toward the fireplace, and ran her fingers through her wavy hair, on the brink of an explosion. "They were supposed to be my parents! They were supposed to fucking love me! They were supposed to care enough to come collect me! I loved Ted, but do you really think I expected to stay married to him? Do you really think when we ran off and eloped I thought it would be forever? Of course not. Of course not!" She picked up a picture of him on the mantle, the one she'd put up to replace the one ruined by Teddy, and ran her fingertips over the glass. "I wanted them to _do something!_ I wanted them to say no, to stop me! I wanted them to fight for me, to make me return home, or, at the very least, turn it into a battle! I wanted them to tell me I mattered too much to waste myself on a Muggleborn, to tell me they loved me too much to cut me out of their lives. I wanted them to look for me. I wanted them to act like _parents!"_

She threw the framed photograph into the roaring fireplace, where the glass shattered and crackled and the wooden frame burned. Ted's young, smiling face was quickly engulfed by flames. She turned back to face her Healer and Kingsley, arms folded across her chest.

"I would never have let my daughter go." Her face crumbled as she sunk to her knees before the fireplace. "How could any mother let her daughter go?"

"Andromeda," Healer Smelthwick said softly, rising and reaching out to her, but Andromeda waved her back.

"I have a great many reasons to hate myself and always have, but the core - the heart of it, the reason I cannot see myself as worthy of love - lies at the feet of my parents. How could they create me and not _love_ me, not even a little? There had to have been something very wrong with me, something innately damaged."

"That's not tr-," Adelaide started, but Andromeda cut her off.

"I love my daughter more than life and would never have willingly let her go. When Ted took her - when he left me and took her with him, and I knew they were with his sister but couldn't find them - it _destroyed_ me. I would have... We would have been divorced after that, had I not been terrified of losing her again. I made every concession he demanded of me, I tried to be the perfect bloody wife, and I let him hold that affair over my head for the rest of our time together because I didn't want to lose my daughter. I'd live a thousand lousy lives just to give her one good one. I would die in a thousand painful ways just to spare her the pain of one."

"You're a better mother than yours was," said Healer Smelthwick.

"Except I'm not!" Andromeda choked out, on the verge of sobs. "Because I _did_ let her go! When she went to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, I should have stopped her! I shouldn't have let her go, but I did, and now my sweet grandson has to grow up without a mother, because I let her go just the way my parents let me go, and..."

"No." Kingsley stood and spoke in a commanding voice that made her shoulders jump. "You did not _let_ Nymphadora go. Nymphadora went of her own accord because you raised her to be strong and moral and to do what was right rather than what was easy. Your parents let you go because it was easy and because they were incapable of feeling the love they should have for their daughters, because they viewed you as property or currency, objects to be bartered for or displayed to the masses for show. They were the innately damaged ones, not you, and they took the easy road by letting you go. But watching your daughter leave this home that night, knowing she might not come back? That was the hardest thing you've ever done, wasn't it? You've told me-"

"I thought about Stupefying her. I was her mother, I should have been able to control her, to stop her. If I'd raised her better, she would have listened to me when I said no. If I'd raised her better, she wouldn't have been the type of mother to abandon her son."

"She left not because you _let_ her, but because you raised her to go where she knew she should, where she could do the most good, and I'll not stand here and listen to you blame yourself for her death, or for Teddy growing up without a mother." His tone was authoritative; he was very much in Minister-mode at the moment, and she found it brought her more comfort than the quiet, placating tones he usually used during therapy, during her hard times. "I do not know how to stop you from feeling as though their opinion of you has any validity, or how to get you to stop internalizing their vile words and decisions, but I'll not listen to you misrepresent what Nymphadora did that night. She did not _abandon_ her son. She was an Auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She fought to save Hogwarts, our side, and the future for her son. Leaving him that night was the hardest thing she had to do but she did it because it was _right,_ and both you and Teddy need to understand that. You were a good mother to her and now you're a good mother to him because she can't be here to do it herself, but I'll be damned if I let you fault yourself for that - and she wouldn't accept your blame either. Stop being a bloody martyr, woman. You can't control _everything."_

This broke her. As they had that morning surrounded by letters to her daughter, the tears came, hard and fast and painful. Kingsley bent before her, scooped her into his arms, and carried her back to the couch.

When she was calm enough to continue conversation, Adelaide, again in her seat, asked gently, "Do you feel you need to control things, Andromeda?"

"Can't we read Kingsley's letter now?" she asked weakly, looking drained, the pillow hugged to her chest. "I'm tired of it being my turn."

"Very well." Adelaide nodded to Kingsley. "Minister?"

"Fine." He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out rolled parchment. Upon unfurling, he began to read.

 _"Kingsley,_

 _"This letter is as assignment from Healer Smelthwick. It is a ridiculous and nonsensical task, as I've got nothing to say to you on paper than I haven't already said in your head, which is where such thoughts belong. However, I swore I would make an effort, which means writing you this asinine, time-wasting letter-"_

"Hecate's cauldron, Kingsley, you're just as snarky as she is! The two of you certainly are well-suited to each other."

Andromeda snorted. Kingsley tried to hide a smile. It was true, they did share the same sense of humor. It was one of the first things he noticed about her (that wasn't strictly physical).

"I'll skip ahead. Bear with me..."

"By all means."

 _"I've made it clear to every woman with whom I've been involved since my son and his mother were killed that I have no desire to have children. When Andromeda first told me it as not a possibility for her, I confess, I was less than convinced. I'd had women tell me before that they couldn't get pregnant or were on the potion, but I was careful not to take the chance. When I became convinced that she was, indeed, unable, we stopped using protection."_

He cleared his throat and shifted on the couch. "Perhaps I should skip ahead again."

"I'd rather hear what you had to say, if you don't mind."

He did mind, but did not want to seem as though he minded, especially considering what Andromeda had already shared, thus he continued.

 _"I've told her in the past she almost makes me want children, and it's true. There have been times I've felt disappointment over what once brought me relief - that it wasn't in the stars for us. Despite the difficulties of the past year, there are times I look at her and think..."_

He cleared his throat again. She snuggled up against his side, her knees bent, one palm to the center of his chest.

"I want to know what you think," she said softly. He continued.

 _"I think about how it would be to see her pregnant. To make a baby with her. To raise our child together. Despite the difficulties of the past year, I've never loved a woman like this. But I am content to be with her without children of our own, too. And when I asked her to marry me, and she said no, I felt a pain and betrayal and disappointment I'd managed to avoid for over two decades. I stopped telling her I loved her, though I did not stop feeling it. And I know that hurt her, but I was hurt, and I thought if I stopped saying it I would, eventually, not feel it quite so deeply. I wanted to remain together, but I did not want it to continue to hurt."_

"Oh, Kingsley..."

"Let him speak, Andromeda."

 _"I knew she was drinking too much, but she relaxed when she drank, she seemed less high-strung, less anxious, and so it was easy for us to drink together and for me to pretend it wasn't hurting her, as she rarely over-consumed when we were together, as I could keep her from doing so. I ignored the fact that I knew she was getting pissed when I wasn't around. I told myself she wanted to be independent - that's why she wouldn't marry me, she said - and that she therefore could and should handle it on her own. I let myself believe she would be fine."_

He switched his gaze from the page to Andromeda's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, love."

He returned to the parchment.

 _"When I came upon her on the floor of the sitting room, needle still in her arm, barely breathing, I was angry, but also sickened and guilt-stricken. I had Aurors on Rowle. I knew he was dealing. They could have picked him up, but I did not want her arrested too, I wanted her name kept entirely out of it, thus I had them wait. But I did not confront her. I did not try to stop her. I had a house-elf spying on her, but I did not react as I should have. I did not know how to react, and so I waited, telling myself I was gathering information, waiting for the proper time to intervene. The proper time should have been immediately. I see that now. And while I know she was angry with me for having her committed, I do not regret it. It is the one thing in regards to this situation that I do not regret. I only wish I'd done it sooner."_

He looked to her again. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, love."

 _"I lost my son and his mother because I hadn't done anything yet, I hadn't intervened, as I was waiting for the right time, and I nearly lost Andromeda the same way. When she was in St. Mungo's, before she could be transferred, she told me to kill myself with the knife I left in her back."_

Andromeda groaned.

" _But when I went home that night, alone, knowing she was to be sent to the facility and Teddy was safe with his aunt, all I could think about was how I'd lost one family in 1980 and nearly lost another in 2003. I've maintained that I do not want to be a father - not again - but Teddy..."_

He placed one hand on her upper thigh, right over where he knew the "witch's mark" was hiding.

"I'd be content to raise Teddy with you."

"Are you still vehemently against having children?" asked Healer Smelthwick curiously, leaning forward to rest her chin on her folded hands.

"I am vehemently against having a child with Hestia." He shook his head, unable to make eye contact with either woman. "Right now, today, if it were possible to accidentally get Andromeda pregnant, and were she to want to keep the baby, I would be in favor of keeping it. But this child with Hestia? What sort of situation would we be bringing it into? Being with her over the summer was one of the worst mistakes I've made. The child - should it be mine - will be a constant reminder of that."

"But we won't treat it that way." Andromeda placed one of her hands over his. "If this baby is yours, I don't want it growing up feeling the way I did, that it was brought into this world by someone who wishes it hadn't been."

Kingsley nodded his agreement. "If the child is mine, I'll love it as much as I do Teddy, and as much as I did - _do_ \- my son."

"I want to raise Teddy with you." Andromeda reached up to stroke his cheek, staring into his eyes and ignoring the feel of the Healer's gaze on them. "We'll be a family, and if the baby is yours he or she will be part of it."

He leaned forward, and when his lips were but a breath from hers, he murmured, "I love you."

Just before she closed the gap, she replied, "I love you, too."

"We'll, we've certainly come a long way." Healer Adelaide Smelthwick stood, stretched, and sent her quill, inkwell, and parchment into her bag. "Time is up. If you'd like to read each other the rest of your letters, or share the letters you each wrote the other, I encourage you to do so with open minds and loving hearts, to set aside judgement in favor of a deeper understanding, but if you wish to keep what you've written private, that is, of course, up to you."

"What's the final assessment?" Kingsley stood too, reaching out his hand to shake hers. "When we started this, you weren't convinced we should attempt to be together."

"Just as it wasn't for me to say then whether you should or should not be together, it's not for me to say now. But I will say, you've both made considerable progress, I'm proud of you, and if you continue along this path I see no reason you shouldn't enjoy a long and happy life together, whatever that may entail."

"Thank you." Andromeda rose to her feet and clasped one of the Healer's hands between her own. "I owe you... more than I can express."

"I want _you_ to stay sober, to remind yourself _daily_ that you are deserving of love, and to keep writing. You have a talent for it. While there's nothing wrong with directing patients part-time at St. Mungo's, there's no reason you can't do something else with your life, something more personally rewarding. I want to see you reach your full potential. The only thing that has stopped you from doing so thus far have been the over-abundance of people in your life letting you think you can't." Adelaide pulled Andromeda into an unexpected hug. "You are worth so much more than people have let you believe."

Upon gathering her things and grasping the proper amount of Floo Powder, the Healer added, "Should you need me, you know where to find me. Either of you."

She tossed it into the fire. "St. Mungo's Substance Addiction and Emotional Affliction Facility, administrator's office."

And they were alone.

(Save for Meow-Meow, who sauntered in, hissed at Andromeda, and curled up on the Healer's vacated chair.)

Andromeda and Kingsley faced each other, standing between the couch and the coffee table.

"What now?" she asked.

"What now," he repeated. He glanced at the cat. "I think his litter box needs cleaning. We could do that now."

"I mean what now for us, you ridiculous man." She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "What now for us?"

He slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close.

"You want to raise Teddy with me, woman?"

"I want us to live together, Minister." She clasped her hands at the back of his neck and bumped his pelvis with her lower abdomen. "I don't know that I'm ready to think about marriage, especially heading into an election year, but I don't want you going home to a home I don't share. Every night I want to fall asleep with you and every morning I want to wake up with you. I'll cook for you and clean for you and make lo-"

His mouth was on hers before she could finish the word.

Her lips parted, granting entrance to his tongue, and she moaned softly as his met hers. Within seconds she was on her back on the couch, and he was moving over her, as they kissed over and over between murmured words of affection and encouragement.

"Yes... Kingsley... yes..."

His hand slipped up under her t-shirt, coming to rest over her bra-clad breast. He yanked down on the front of the cup to run the pad of his thumb over her hardened nipple as her short nails dug into his lower back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him flush to her, as his mouth went to her ear, close enough for his breath to tickle the lobe.

"Let me suck your tits, Andromeda. Let me fuck you. I need to come inside you. It's been too long since we last-"

"Yes," she said, reaching one hand up to the back of his neck to urge him downward. When therapy started, she was aghast at the thought of waiting a couple of weeks before having sex - three months later, it had been _far too long,_ and his words were making her wetter than his roaming fingers. "Tell me what you want, Kingsley. Tell me what you want me to do to you."

He groaned, bit down on her shoulder, and thrust against her. "You know what I want, woman."

"I want you to tell me."

He kissed her shoulder. "I want you naked."

"What else?"

He kissed her neck. "I want you on top."

"What else, love?"

He kissed her breast over the fabric of her shirt. "I want you to-"

 _"OH!"_

Kingsley and Andromeda immediately froze as if Stupefied. That "Oh" hadn't come from either of them. In a flash, he was off her, standing, and she was sitting up, and both were adjusting their attire.

Hermione Granger was standing in front of the fireplace.

She had one hand over her own eyes and the other over Teddy's.

"What?" Teddy wriggled and tugged at her wrist. "What is it? What is happening?"

"I am so, so, so very sorry." Hermione did not uncover either of their eyes. "I had no idea you would be... busy."

"We're not busy." Andromeda threw the pillow at Hermione, who squeaked and doubled-over when it hit her in the stomach (she also dropped her hands). Andromeda chuckled. Kingsley managed to suppress his smile. There was something amusing about seeing this intelligent, headstrong woman completely beside herself with humiliation over something so small.

"NANA!" Teddy, finally able to see, ran to his grandmother. He scrambled into her lap and kissed her cheek. "Nana, guess what? Draco has Dragon Pox!"

"That's why we're early." Hermione's face was still Gryffindor maroon. She clearly couldn't even bring herself to chance a glance in Kingsley's direction. "I wanted to wait to bring him back until I was certain your session would be over, but not too long as I have to get these potions from Severus home to Draco."

"Relax, Hermione." Kingsley clapped her on the shoulder, which, if possible, made her even less relaxed. "You were a prefect, were you not? I would bet all the galleons in Gringotts this isn't the first time you've chanced upon a snogging couple."

"I'm sorry!"

"You were snogging?" Teddy, still in Andromeda's lap, pretended to vomit over the end of the couch. She swatted him playfully on the bum, an 'admonishment' that made him giggle.

"Hermione, some time soon Narcissa and I are going shopping for a few special items - a girl's afternoon. You should join us. You seem... tense."

"I'm not tense!"

"Nothing says 'I'm not tense' like shouting 'I'm not tense' in response to being told you look tense, dear." Andromeda chuckled, set Teddy down and headed toward the kitchen.

"Tea, anyone?"

That was just shy of a week ago. In the days since, Teddy returned to therapy and tutoring, Andromeda cooked and cleaned as if her life depended upon both, Kingsley slowly began moving his possessions from the Minister's Official Quarters to her small but more home-y home, Dorcas Kensington purchased her first text book in preparation for her Hogwarts return, and the Daily Prophet reported Thorfinn Rowle had been granted a trial in front of the Wizengamot, as his 'coerced' confession had been thrown out, casting a dark shadow upon the office of a previously above-reproach Minister.

Then, after a lovers quarrel that turned ugly, one of the Black sisters got blackout drunk for the first time in a long time.

Yes, all in all, it was an up-and-down week.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you so so so so much to my Chapter 26 reviewers! I was super excited to hit 200. They go to the sex shop in the next chapter with an unsuspecting Hermione in tow, which I'm looking forward to sharing (I hope you enjoy!). Please tell me what you thought of Andromeda and Kingsley's last session. And thanks again to **lilikaco, emrldapplejuice, KnowInsight, somethingnew2016, Banglabou, sassanech, clarasnotlikely,** and **kalilje** for your reviews!

 **-AL**


	28. Part Three: Week 2

**CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK TWO**

Andromeda awoke on Thursday morning to find she was not in bed with Teddy and Kingsley, the two people with whom she'd fallen asleep, but with Narcissa to her left and Hope between them. The child had the top of her head against her mother's hip and her feet pressing on her aunt's thigh. She was attempting to straighten out in her sleep, but doing so would push Andromeda from the bed entirely. Deciding it wasn't worth a fight, she got up and headed to the loo.

"This is my life," she muttered minutes later, as she stepped under the hot stream of the shower. She'd only started to wet her hair when the curtain parted and Teddy climbed in.

"The hell are you doing?" she asked.

"I want a shower," he said simply. He moved himself in front of her, under the water, pushing her back toward the wall. "Ow! Too hot."

"I like my showers hot." But she turned it cooler, to avoid burning him. She actually liked her showers more than hot - she liked them scalding. Kingsley asked her on more than one occasion if she was certain she didn't have ice water running through her veins, as he wasn't sure how she couldn't stand the temperature otherwise.

"I also like to shower _alone,"_ Andromeda said pointedly. The tiny boy blinked up at her. His hair went natural, as it always did during showers and baths, tumbling down to his shoulders in loose brown ringlets. (Like hers, it was curlier when wet.) "Teddy, you are too old to shower with me."

"Kingsley's older than me an' he showers with you."

She frowned. She hadn't realized he was aware of that.

"It's different with Kingsley."

"Why?"

"Because he's the Minister for Magic, that's why."

Teddy looked skeptical.

"You letted me take baths with you when I had the Pox."

"That was different." She scowled. She had goosebumps all up her arms and there was no way she could shave her legs with him standing here. "Those were baths, we wore bathing costumes, you were sick... And I like showering alone, in hot water."

"Kingsley leaved for work. I heard you come in here. Can you wash my hair?"

"Of course." Even when he took his own 'big boy' showers, either she or Kingsley washed and rinsed his hair. "Where did you sleep? I woke up without you."

"Hope comed in when it was morning, but still dark. She was crying. She climbed into bed next to me and Meow-Meow. Then Kingsley getted up to take a shower. Hope started sleeping but too close to me and she kicks so I getted up and went back to my bed. Auntie comed in looking for Hope. I think she sleeped on the couch, but when Kingsley comed out the shower and went downstairs for coffee I sat with him and then when he leaved for work I went in the sitting room to play with my dollhouse Therapy Cats and Auntie wasn't there anymore."

"We need to work on your mastery of the past tense, Teddy. I think your grammar's getting worse." Andromeda leaned past him for the shampoo. She lathered a little into his hair before doing her own and fought back a cold shiver.

"But _you're_ my grammar and you're getting better!" He giggled. "Get it?"

"Teddy, that's a pun! Very clever!"

He beamed up at her, proudly. He liked being very clever.

"Auntie?"

Bloody hell. Now Hope was in the bathroom too.

"Auntie? I'm hungry. I want brekkie."

Andromeda stuck her head out through the curtain. "Tell your mother."

Hope rubbed her eyes. She was wearing purple one-piece pajamas with the feet sewn in. Her hair was pulled into two messy braided pigtails, as her mother had neglected to brush her hair out before bed.

"Want brekkie _now."_

"I said, tell your mother."

"Mummy's sleeeeeeping." Hope never woke her mother in the morning at home, nor her father either, though he was generally an early riser. If she needed something, she called for the house-elf. Unfortunately, Butters hadn't come with them to Auntie's.

"Wake her up, then. Tell her to cook you something."

"Mummy _can't_ cook!"

"She'll learn."

Hope blinked her eyes rapidly, creating crocodile tears, then whimpered pathetically, and jutted out her lower lip. This was how she got her way at home, by being as needy and whiny and obnoxious as Narcissa had been at that age. The child didn't have Teddy-scale tantrums, but she was spoiled rotten and knew how to get her way via emotional manipulation, which worked on both her parents, but especially her father. Andromeda, on the other hand, was having none of it.

"Hope, hand to Merlin, if you-"

"Auunnnttttiiieee, I _neeeeedd_ youuuu!" Two big fat tears made their way down her cheeks. "Plllleeeassssee! I'm _huuuunnnggrryyy!"_

"GET. OUT. NOW! If you're hungry, wake your bloody mother."

Hope wailed as if wounded and fled from the bathroom, leaving the door open, releasing the last of the little bit of steam that had managed to build up before Teddy made her turn down the heat. Lovely.

"And Kingsley thinks it might have been _nice_ to have a child together," she muttered.

"What, Nana?"

"Nothing, love." She rinsed the shampoo from his hair first, then her own, feeling nothing but annoyed the entire time. She wanted her hot solo shower, she wanted to sleep comfortably in her own bed, and she wanted to enjoy officially living with her boyfriend without worrying about bumping into her sister and niece every five seconds. Plus, while she enjoyed cooking and didn't even mind cleaning, she was growing sick of tidying up after extra people and acting as personal chef for everyone.

Last Saturday, one day shy of one week after she asked Kingsley to move in, they ended up with their first unexpected house guest. Severus deposited Narcissa on the sitting room sofa Saturday afternoon, his face set in a grimace. She'd immediately hid her face in her hands, moaning about how ill she felt and how this was not fair.

"If she wants to drink, so be it, but I'll not raise my daughter with an alcoholic," he'd said harshly. "I will not let Hope grow up in the same situation in which I was unfortunate enough to..." He held Narcissa's face by the chin, forcing eye contact. "So you can stay here until you decide whether you'd like to be a wife and mother, or a woman-about-town."

He'd Flooed home immediately after, with no further explanation, and before she could answer any questions about the state in which she'd been brought to them, Narcissa passed out.

Andromeda had Kingsley carry Narcissa into their bedroom to sleep off whatever she'd consumed. The two of them shared the transfigured couch that night and Teddy, for a nice change, slept in his own room. Kingsley and Andromeda had fooled around a little, but the freedom of not having a child in bed with them was offset by the knowledge that her sister could interrupt at any time. (Though if both were being entirely honest, the realization that could easily get caught was a turn-on, and part of the reason it took no time at all for them to bring each other to completion without even getting completely undressed.)

Sunday morning, Kingsley took Teddy out for breakfast while Narcissa nursed a hangover and told her sister what happened.

"I told you I've been going to brunch regularly with Hermione's mother, Jean, and we drink mimosas."

"Yes," said Andromeda. She was frying eggs and making toast even though Cissy swore she'd never be able to eat (or hold her head up independently) ever again.

"Yesterday, we had more than usual. Her latest relationship - if it could be called a relationship - fell apart. We were commiserating."

"You were preemptively lamenting the destruction of yours?"

Narcissa shot her a dirty look. "I had too much champagne. When I returned home, Severus was waiting with a bottle of wine. Hope wasn't home. Hermione took her out at his request."

"Why was he waiting with wine?"

"He found it." Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose and winced. Her blonde hair hung limply around her face and yesterday's eye makeup made the bags under her eyes even darker and more pronounced than the drinking had. "I've been... sipping."

"Sipping?"

"Only a little here or there. I used to enjoy wine, remember? And I didn't always have a problem. I didn't have a problem until Lucius was executed." She glared at Andromeda, who was facing away from the stove, watching her. "Executed by the Ministry as run by your boyfriend, let us not forget."

"Let's not do this. We've been getting on so well." She turned back to the stove to flip the eggs.

"Severus found the bottle and told me he was going to pour it out, but Meda, it would have pained me to see it wasted! Since I only sip a little at a time, I want to enjoy it. I bought a bottle of Ashwinder Winery's finest elf-made red, two hundred galleons a bottle. When I told him the price, he tipped his cauldron. He said, 'Do you think I'm made from Malfoy money?' We had a massive row. Things were... said."

"Things?" She put two cups of coffee on the table. Though it wasn't her sister's preferred drink, it was better for a morning after too much alcohol than tea or juice. Andromeda went back to the stove.

"I was... ranting... and he interrupted to ask, 'What's wrong with you? Is it menopause or menstruation? I need to know so I can estimate when you'll be normal again.'"

"He didn't!"

"Oh, he did."

Andromeda checked the toast, then turned to face her.

"And what did you say?"

"I said, 'What's wrong with me is that I can't remember the last time I had an orgasm I didn't have to bring about completely on my own!'"

"You didn't!"

"Oh, I did."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing." Narcissa sniffled miserably, fingers splayed over her eyes, her elbows on the table so her hands could hold up her head. "He tossed the wine bottle on the couch beside me and stormed out. I drank myself stupid and when he returned I'd..." She winced at the memory. "I'd vomited and gone unconscious. He woke me with an Ennervate and brought me here. But first, he asked if I wanted him to have me committed the way Kingsley did you."

Andromeda, feeling testy about this, turned back to the stove as Narcissa continued.

"I told him I wouldn't have to drink if I were happy at home and we... we said a few more vicious things. We've _never_ had a row like that before. Lucius and I _never_ fought like that. I don't know what to make of it. Is it the end of our marriage? I don't want it to be the end of our marriage." Her nose twitched. "I love him."

Andromeda put two eggs on each plate and added toast, buttered for her, dry for Narcissa, who was trying to diet. She tossed some fruit in a bowl for them to share and set the dishes on the table. Narcissa nibbled at a berry. Andromeda reached for her coffee.

"You shouldn't be drinking, Cissy. I told you that."

"I thought I could manage."

"You can't." She took a sip. Disgusting. Needed sugar. "I've tried to be a casual drinker. I've been through this cycle more times than I care to count. I get sober, I forget what it was like to be an alcoholic, I convince myself a little won't hurt, I remind myself of what it was like when I was able to handle my intake, I start again, I keep under control for awhile, then I spiral and plummet to rock bottom and have to start over. My Healer and I spoke about this at length during my treatment, and I heard countless similar stories from other patients during group therapy. We all think we can manage, we can handle it, it won't be like that the next time... but it always ends the same way. And I won't do it again. Not after... not after this last year. I won't even use cooking sherry or breathe in deeply when I pass that alley where the Muggle kids smoke their marijuana. The fact is, no, we can't handle it. We can't manage. We are alcoholics and will always be, even when we're not drinking."

"But..."

"And I love you, Cissy, but if you're going to be drinking, I can't be around you. I'm sorry. It's too dangerous for me."

During her sessions with Kingsley, Healer Smelthwick made it a point to tell him that his alcohol consumption mattered too, and while he did not need to stay sober the rest of his life, he should abstain from doing it in her presence and especially in the home. He'd agreed.

"I'm not going to be drinking." Narcissa twirled a berry between her thumb and forefinger, squeezing out some of the juice. "I'm done with it. My head is throbbing. I can't recall the last time I had a hangover like... I... I'm never doing this again, I promise. I'm going to rest, get my head together, go home, and apologize to Severus."

"Good."

Now it was four mornings later, Thursday, and Narcissa still hadn't returned home.

She and Severus had spoken, tersely, twice, and agreed time apart would do them good. Because Narcissa couldn't take Hope to Malfoy Manor, where Draco was still down with the Pox, and because she couldn't bear to be apart from her for longer than a couple of nights, she'd asked him to bring the girl to her next door Tuesday and Wednesday nights, with the understanding Narcissa would return her to him on Thursday night.

"Or _you_ could go home and _he_ could sleep at Malfoy Manor," Andromeda had said. This had made Narcissa cry.

"I can't be alone, Meda, not in that house without him, not knowing he's sleeping in the home I shared with Lucius! I'll die!"

After their too-cold shower, Andromeda wrapped Teddy in a towel and sent him to his room to get dressed alone. She went into her own room wearing her dressing gown with her hair up in a towel, pointed her wand at Narcissa's face, and said, "Aquamenti."

Narcissa sputtered and flailed, then sat up reaching for her own wand. She gave up the search when she saw the person before her.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yes. It's me. Here, in my bedroom. My bedroom in my house. Where you're sleeping. In my bed. For fuck's sake, Cissy." Andromeda stalked to her wardrobe in search of her St. Mungo's uniform. She had to work 10-4 today.

"Have you made breakfast yet?" Narcissa disentangled herself from the sheets. "I'm hungry."

Andromeda silently counted to ten, eyes closed, facing the inside of her wardrobe rather than turning to stare down her sister.

"Not to force you out prematurely, Cissy, but when do you reckon you'll return home to Severus?"

"I was hoping tonight." Narcissa sounded anxious. "After we've shopped and eaten, I was hoping to leave Hope here for the night and go home to try to make it up to Severus with the aid of my purchases. And if that doesn't work..."

"You could also purchase something you can use on your own," said Andromeda. She found a clean uniform skirt and blouse. "When I was married, I relied heavily on-"

"With all due respect and love, Meda, I do not want a marriage like yours. I _love_ Severus. He _loves_ me. It's _entirely_ different."

"I loved Ted!" Andromeda swiveled around, looking both upset and insulted. "Our relationship was not the ideal one you shared with Lucius, but I _did_ love him, and he loved me, and I'll not have you disparaging my marriage. Understand?"

"I'm sorry." Narcissa fiddled with the hem of her borrowed nightgown. "I want with Severus what I had with Lucius, that's all."

"I think what you had with Lucius may be better in your head than it was in reality," Andromeda said gently. She sat on the edge of the bed, facing her sister. "He _did_ have an affair, remember? And he's the reason your son became a Death Eater and risked his own life in an attempt to end Dumbledore's. Lucius attacked children in the Ministry and committed terrible crimes on You-Know-Who's command. I listen to you remember him fondly because I know how important he was to you, but he was a Death Eater and Death Eaters tortured me here in my home and threatened my husband, sending him on the run, and one murdered my daughter. Lucius was only perfect in your eyes, Narcissa, and you tend to look back with rose-tinted glasses."

"I don't know." Narcissa raked her fingers through a tangled mess of limp blonde hair.

"Does Severus love you?"

"Very much, I think."

"Is he a good father? Is he good to Hope?"

"He's an incredible father."

"And you - do you love him? Genuinely?"

"With my whole heart," she said softly, nodding. "I do not regret a single moment of our relationship, save for that... save for what happened on Saturday, and these days since. I want us to be happy together."

"A row isn't the end of the world, nor is it the end of your marriage." Andromeda kissed Narcissa's forehead and rose to finish getting ready for work. "Are we eating before or after shopping?"

"Before. Hermione and her mother are meeting us at the restaurant at four. We'll have tea and sandwiches, something small, then go."

"Her mother is coming?" She turned her back to Narcissa as she removed her sleep shirt and pulled on a bra and blouse. Narcissa cocked an eyebrow, never having seen the scars on her back before, but she said nothing about them.

"Is is alright if she comes"

"Fine with me. I invited someone too."

"The child prostitute?"

Andromeda about-faced, eyes flashing. "What the fuck did you call her?"

Narcissa looked taken aback. "I... the girl... the one you had playing governess for Draco and Hermione's dinner. I figured out... I..."

"Do not call her 'the child prostitute,' Narcissa."

"I'm sorry."

"Go start breakfast yourself. I have to get ready for work."

"You don't have to be there until ten! Can't you cook?" whined Narcissa, looking and sounding very much like her three-year-old daughter. "I don't know how!"

"Learn."

"Meeeedaaa!"

"Merlin's bloody ballsack, Narcissa, you heat up a pan, you crack eggs into it, you wait for the whites to stop being runny, and you flip them! Or, if that's too taxing, there's porridge. Toast. Fruit and yogurt. Beans on toast. Teddy knows how to make beans on toast."

"He can make breakfast?" she asked hopefully. "I miss Butters."

"Spoiled bitch." Andromeda picked up a pillow that had fallen to the floor and chucked it at Cissy, who ducked. "You're a stay-at-home mother who doesn't-"

"I know!" Narcissa threw the pillow back, but missed her sister by several inches. "Severus says Butters is getting old and needs a lighter workload. He thinks I should learn to cook and clean, do the food shopping and manage the laundry, like a Squib girl! He said, 'that's women's work. You're a woman!' I was _highly_ insulted, as was Jean when I told her about it over brunch last week, but then she suggested I show him what 'women's work' can be by getting a 'real job,'" Narcissa put air quotes around both phrases. "And I nearly died! A real job? As if I could do what you do, sitting behind a desk, directing patients, wearing a hideous uniform, taking orders from those far beneath me in every other way! I reminded her, just as I reminded him, that the greatest benefit to having been born wealthy and raised wealthy and to have married wealthy is that I can leave the dull domestic tasks and dirty work to witches like y-..."

She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Like... me?" Andromeda chuckled bitterly. "For your edification, dear sister, I cook and clean for Kingsley not because I have to, but because I enjoy it. And because he's rubbish at both. When I was married to Ted, we shared the domestic duties, in part because we both worked. We took turns cookings and cleaned up after ourselves and encouraged Nymphadora to do the same, though she was a mess from the time she could crawl. And we both worked because we had to, not because either of us had a passion for our work, but there are other witches and wizards - other women, all around the world - who work because they want to, because they take pride in what they do. It might not hurt you to get a job, Narcissa. To see what it's like to work for what you have. Look at the world of good it did Draco."

Narcissa gasped. "You cannot be serious. You're as bad as Jean! A _job?"_

"I most certainly _am_ serious. We shall discuss this over dinner. I am certain accomplished potions-mistress Hermione and her pediatric dentist mother Jean will have a lot to say on the subject."

Narcissa threw herself backwards against the pillows and pouted up at the ceiling while Andromeda finished dressing, fixing her hair, and applying a little makeup. When they got downstairs, it was to find Teddy and Hope fighting over his cat family dolls.

"THEY ARE NOT TOYS!"

"I WANNA PLAY!"

"THEY ARE THERAPY CATS!"

"I WANNA PLAY CATS!"

"GIVE ME BACK MY HARRY POTTER CAT." Teddy tried to wrench it from Hope's hands.

"NO." Hope stomped on his foot. "I WANNA PLAY!"

Teddy screamed. Hope screamed. Teddy pushed Hope. She hit him in the head with Harry Potter Cat. He wrestled her for it and its head came off.

"HARRY POTTER CAT! YOU KILLED HIM, YOU BITCH!" Teddy jumped on her, knocking her to the floor on her back.

"THAT'S A INNA-POPE-IATE WORD!" she wailed as she struggled.

"YOU KILLED MY CAT!"

He smacked her arm. She pulled his hair. He bit her.

Headless Harry Potter Cat lay to the side. His head was still clutched in Hope's hand.

"MUUMMMYYYY!" Hope screeched, spotting them, at the same time Teddy hollered, "NAAANNNNAAA!"

Once the children were separated, sitting in Time Away, and stewing over the fact they'd both have to apologize to each other when the time ran down, Andromeda whispered to her sister, "You know, Kingsley told our Healer last week he sometimes fantasizes about having a child with me."

"Is he mad?" Narcissa murmured back out of the side of her mouth. They were standing in the center of the sitting room, back to back, staring at the two small children who wore identical pouts. "I cannot tell you how happy I am that the fertility measures Severus and I attempted a couple of months ago didn't take. How did Mother manage three of us in close succession?"

"It was easy for her," muttered Andromeda. "She drank."

They both sniggered.

Several hours later, after a work day that felt far too long, Andromeda changed quickly from her uniform to a bright green blouse over dark blue jeans, less her hair down, and hurried to meet her sister and the others for their evening out. When she reached the restaurant, it was to find Dorcas standing outside, hugging herself, wearing a tattered jumper to hide the revealing bodice of her imitation Victorian-style dress. She wore torn fishnets underneath, visible thanks to a high slit that was clearly created by shoddy knife work. Her lips were blood red, her eyes were heavily lined, and she wore too much rouge.

She didn't just look like a prostitute, she looked like the sort of prostitute who would have found herself murdered by Jack the Ripper.

"Come here," said Andromeda, pulling her into a nearby Muggle clothing store.

"But we'll be late!" Dorcas' eyes widened as if lateness meant certain death.

"Then we'll be late," said Andromeda. She dragged Dorcas to the clearance rack. "Summer attire is on sale. Here..." She held up a daffodil yellow sundress. "Get this. And..." She searched until she found a black long-sleeved top mixed in among the t-shirts and tanks. "This can go under the top, and under..." She brought her to wear they kept the tight patterned leggings. "Black and white under the yellow."

"Will these fit me?"

"If not, I can transfigure them to fit for now, and sew them tighter or let them out as needed later." Transfiguration charms on clothing were tricky, as they didn't typically last long, but she was confident they could manage the evening. Once Andromeda had paid (with Kingsley's Muggle money, admittedly) she sent Dorcas into the ladies' room to change and remove her makeup. Dorcas was smiling ear to ear when they left.

"I'm adorable!" she said, twirling in front of the mirror near the door.

"Yes, you're lovely, come along, little girl, we're late."

The others were already seated, (non-alcoholic) drinks in hand, when they reached the table.

"This is Dorcas," said Andromeda, nodding at her. She indicated each of the others as she introduced them. "You may remember her from the engagement party; she cared for the children. Dorcas, I'm sure you remember Narcissa and Jean, but I don't recall whether you met Hermione."

Dorcas, no longer smiling, whispered hello. Her arms were hugged around her upper body and her head was ducked as if looking any of them in the eye would be shameful. Andromeda bumped her with her hip.

"Relax."

They settled into the two empty chairs.

"So, Dorcas, how do you know Andromeda?" asked Jean. Narcissa and Hermione exchanged a glance and Andromeda knew they were both thinking that they should have warned her. Poor Dorcas began stuttering and stammering, but Andromeda quickly cut her off.

"I know Dorcas from the Facility. She's a sweet girl who had the misfortune of being born to a mother even worse than mine and she's terrified I'll tell you that in addition to her brief stint as governess, she's worked as a prostitute. She thinks that somehow makes her less of a person, or a terrible person, but she's not, she's a wonderful person and I am better for knowing her." Andromeda glanced sideways at Dorcas, whose eyes were huge and round. She did not appear to be breathing. "Oh, and she's allergic to oranges."

"That's odd," said Jean Granger, adding a lump of sugar to her tea. "All citrus, or only oranges?"

"All citrus," whispered Dorcas.

"I'm allergic to peaches," said Jean. ""Latex, actually, but the same component is naturally found in peaches. I didn't know until I was in dental school and had a reaction to the gloves. Previously, I thought everyone's lips and tongue tingled when they ate peaches. Do you experience anaphylaxis?"

"Er..." Dorcas looked to Andromeda.

"That means do you stop breathing if you accidentally ingest citrus."

"Oh. Yes."

The waitress arrived then to take their food order - they decided to share several small plates - and the conversation inevitably turned to men, much to the relief of Dorcas and the chagrin of Hermione, though the older women carried most of the conversation.

"Through therapy, I've come to realize that my first marriage was worse than I'd realized, which was tough to take as I truly did love Ted, and still do to some extent, but I think I'll have a greater chance for success with Kingsley thanks to the introspection. And I _do_ want success with Kingsley. I have never experienced with anyone else what I do with him and he says it's mutual. We're sort of stupidly infatuated with each other."

...

"The end of my marriage came as no great shock. I'm sorry, Hermione - stop making that face - but it's true. Had my daughter not Obliviated us and sent us to Australia, we would have divorced much earlier, and we certainly wouldn't have had the twins. But I am grateful she did it. I don't know how I could have survived that year knowing she was off fighting a war while we were in hiding, and Ophelia and Orlando are my world, even though I wish their father would involve himself more."

...

"I cannot continue comparing Severus to Lucius. My marriage was idyllic with only a few bumps here and there, and it will always be important to me. But Lucius... he both put me on a pedestal, like a trophy, _and_ kept himself above me, as head of the house, whereas I'm on equal footing with Severus and... it's taking some getting used to, especially now that Hope is a little older. I was grieving when we started seeing each other, and he'd never had a... a romance before... and we became pregnant so quickly, then wed the day she was born, after which we had all the trials of raising a baby, so now that things with her have settled, I suppose we're discovering each other as people..."

...

"Honestly, it's true! Everything with Draco is fine! Perfect, really. We're very happy. And no, I don't want to talk about... personal things. Except to say all is well. And that I find it disturbing that you lot spend more time talking about sex than my friends do. No offense, but you're... old. _Ouch!_ Mum, don't pinch me, you said I shouldn't be afraid to be honest!"

...

"I've never really done it. I mean, I have, for... work. But I've never... never had a... a boyfriend... or... been on a date... or... held hands... or... anything... like... that."

Dorcas hid her face in her hands, causing her hair to fall across her like a curtain, which made her look very much like a little girl. Which, in Andromeda's opinion, was all she was. The child was barely twenty, but emotionally stunted despite having been forced to grow up too fast in a myriad of ways.

"Never?" asked Hermione.

Andromeda gently lowered Dorcas' hands.

"I've never even kissed a boy," she whispered. "They frighten me. What if I'm not good? What if... what if no one ever likes me? What if I'm not ever good enough for any boy? What if none will ever see... me... for me?"

She was immediately reassured by every woman at the table that someday some boy would like her for her, but Andromeda was quick to add, "Not that your self-worth should be wrapped up in whether some idiotic boy likes you."

After they'd finished their food and paid, they walked toward the shop, with Andromeda leading the way, armed looped through Cissy's with Jean to her other side, while Dorcas and Hermione followed.

Hermione, excited to learn Dorcas' intention to become a nurse like Madam Pomfrey and about her imminent return to Hogwarts, was talking without pause, telling the girl all of her favorite things about school and how she'd recently begun considering a career in Healing, as she couldn't be Severus Snape's potions brewing assistant and shop girl forever. Dorcas seemed to love the attention for a change, and was nodding and grinning and asking pertinent questions whenever Hermione paused to breathe.

Outside the Fuzzy Minx Erotic Emporium, Hermione stopped dead.

"We're going in there?" she asked, incredulous. "I can't go in there! Especially not with my mother! And my future mother-in-law! And..." She looked to Andromeda, who seemed amused by her reaction. "And you!"

"What's wrong with me? Is this because I'm old?"

Jean pinched Hermione's upper arm.

"Ouch, Mum! She said it, I didn't!"

"You said it earlier."

"I am not going."

"I told you Jean," said Narcissa. "I think she's sexually repressed, the poor dear."

"I can't understand why." The brunette sighed. "I tried to raise her to be independent and comfortable with her sexu-"

"I am comfortable with my sexuali-" Hermione cut herself off when she realized a group of teenage boys were walking by, looking at them. "With _that!_ What I'm not comfortable is exploring it with the likes of all of you!"

"Would it help you if I stayed out here?" asked Jean with an expression of concern. "You don't have to tell me what you've bought."

"No, Mum, that does not help, but thanks for the offer." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Draco's going to die when I tell him about this."

"He's sexually repressed too, I suppose," said Andromeda, shaking her head in mock pity. "The poor dear. Maybe his mummy ought to sit him down and-"

"No, I don't believe he would like that," said Hermione quickly. "He doesn't need 'mummy' to give him advice. He's doing quite well, thank you."

"Good to hear." Jean patted Hermione's hand. "I just want the two of you to be happy."

"What am I supposed to buy here?" Dorcas whispered to Andromeda. "At the brothel, they supply us with-"

"Nothing for the brothel," Andromeda snapped, more harshly than she meant to. "Sorry. You're moving to Hogwarts over Christmas break, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Buy something to keep yourself occupied there, then. Actually..." She glanced toward the storefront. "There are books, see? They have all sorts of books, a huge room just full of books, including romance novels so sweet they'll have you heading to Jean to get your sugar-rotted teeth pulled. That's what we'll get for you. That's what you need. A few nice romance novels about brave, decent men who don't treat women and girls the way the ones you've known have treated you."

"Books?" Now Hermione, despite her reservations, looked curious.

"That's right. Books. You can take Dorcas into the bookshop. They also have tea there, and coffee, and little cakes, and you can spend the entire duration of this trip in there."

"I... I do like books. Fine You'll come with me, Dorcas." Hermione side-eyed her mother. "But Mother? I'm not showing you what I've bought. _If_ I buy something."

"Fair enough."

And with that, they were entering the Fuzzy Minx Erotic Emporium.

Hermione tugged Dorcas by the hand, leading her toward the large sign that read BOOK ROOM with an arrow pointing to the right. Narcissa hovered not far from the door, perusing a blackboard.

"They teach couples classes," she said. "Look. Severus and I could take a... it says they're fully clothed, instructional courses, meant to teach couples how to expand their horizons and reach new heights together... No, that's silly, he'd never."

"I took one of those classes." Andromeda ran her finger down the board, seeking the one she'd tried. "Here it is."

101 How-To Tips for Women Who Love Women: a Lesbian Sex Class.

"You took a lesbian sex class?" Narcissa wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"Because my marriage was such a mess I considered switching teams, but it's honestly more difficult to give up cock than it is to quit drinking."

Narcissa and Jean stared at her, open-mouthed and aghast.

"I'm not serious! For fuck's sake, calm down, you two." She snorted. "No, I took it because I knew Kingsley had a certain... fantasy... and for his birthday a couple of years ago I wanted to talk him through what it was he'd been fantasizing about. The class helped. Helped in more ways than one, as a matter of fact, but not until later." She winked at Narcissa, who knew about Amsterdam. But Narcissa stared back with a face of complete seriousness.

"How did you know his... his fantasies?"

"He told me."

"Ooh," said Jean, suddenly distracted by a woman arranging a display in the back corner opposite the book room. "Look, they have an entire line of Aphrodisiac chocolates and they are setting out free samples on that table. Excuse me, I have to indulge before Hermione catches me. I spent so much of her childhood lecturing her about the dangers of sugar and sweets she can't help pointing out my hypocrisy every time I take a bite of something that isn't a meat, fish, or vegetable. Excuse me." She hurried away.

Narcissa turned back to Andromeda.

"He told you? You asked him?"

"He told me in bed." Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. "Doesn't Severus tell you his fantasies?"

"I don't know if he has any."

"Have you told him any of yours?"

"I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"You... Narcissa! He can't - and you can't - the two of you... Merlin, Cissy, when you were married to Lucius, didn't you tell _him_ your fantasies?"

"You don't understand." Narcissa tried to smile, but her nose twitches and her lower lip trembled. "Lucius _was_ my fantasy. He still _is._ Anything he wanted, we did. I was happy to do... anything. Sometimes, too, because of my Legilimency and his lack of Occlumency, I could sense what he wanted and act on it, which he loved. Now, when I'm with Severus, I can't help but think of the things Lucius and I used to do... and I feel guilty, because..." She smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the bodice of her dress. "I've told him there are things I want, but not that they're _fantasies,_ because I don't want him to know I'm thinking about things I did with Lucius. He'd be hurt. Not to mention that it's harder to be 'in the moment' in bed when you're focusing on utilizing Occlumency _and_ on trying to use Legilimency despite his Occlumency at the same time." While they talked, they walked, eventually wandering into the Toys department.

"You two do that in bed? Occlumency, Legilimency, trying to invade each other's minds and keep each other out?" Andromeda could hardly fathom such a thing. "No wonder your sex life is suffering. Who wants to spend the entire time closing her mind so her partner won't know what she wants?"

"If he knew what I wanted, it would hurt him!"

"What about the dog collar? Isn't that something he wanted?" Andromeda was absentmindedly checking out all the shop had to offer in the Vibrators and Dildos section while they chatted, though Andromeda wasn't certain Cissy registered their surroundings. To remind her of their place, she picked up a rather large sparkly purple phallus with a curved attachment intended for "increased stimulation" and held it up to show Narcissa. "On sale."

"I thought he might like it because he likes the dog." Narcissa shrugged, reached for the dildo/vibrator combo, and placed it back on the shelf without checking the price or product particulars. "And he did, but he won't take it... farther. He won't choke me or tie me down or... anything. He says he's afraid to injure me, he doesn't want to be like his father. I don't understand. He wasn't like this before. Well, yes, he was, but not to this extreme. It's getting worse. He's becoming increasingly inhibited, gentler, more cautious."

"Is something the matter with him?"

"All he says is that he's afraid to hurt me and that he doesn't want to become his father. I feel sorry for him, having had a rotten childhood. Not like us."

Andromeda snorted. "Yes, ours was idyllic."

"It _was!"_ Narcissa insisted. "We never wanted for anything. We had the newest dresses, the most expensive jewelry, the prettiest dolls. Mother loved putting us on display. Father found us utterly charming."

"Mother loved showing _you_ off."

"Your perception of the past is skewed. We had a wonderful childhood, save for those rare occasions when Mother or Father had too much to drink and got cross. But they adored us."

"They adored you. Mother adored you and Father adored Bella. Nobody adored the middle child."

"I think time and bitterness have warped your perception." Narcissa took both of Andromeda's hands in hers. They faced each other. "Mother and Father loved us all. When you ran off, they were devastated. Mother called it a betrayal unlike any she's ever known, and Father cried. You only remember the negative parts of our childhood - and there _were_ negatives, I won't pretend otherwise - but we had years of happiness too. Mother enjoyed taking us shopping, showing us off in our matching velvet dresses and hair ribbons. Father used to read to us at night, using a different voice for each character. Where do you think you learned that from?"

Andromeda had forgotten that, but her sister's words brought a memory flooding back.

 _"Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump!" Father's narrator voice was booming but not angry. His presence filled the whole room, making all three little girls giggle. "Speaking of Babbiby..." He reached onto Cissy's bed, where her stuffed rabbit lay on his usual place of honor: atop her pillow. "Here she is in her Animagus form! Babbity, can you tell us how you evaded the Witch-Hunters and their wild dogs?" He held the bunny up to his ear and nodded as if it replied. He held it out, facing the girls, and made it wave its paw. Cissy, age four, and Andromeda, six, waved back._

 _"What's that? I can't hear you, Babbity." He held the bunny to his ear again. "You can? You can share the story? Wonderful!" He made the bunny 'kiss' Bella's cheek. She smiled, but in that way children do when they think they're far too old for kid stuff._

 _"What's that?" Back to his ear. "Oh, you need_ me _to tell the story? You're too shy? Well, that's fine. I would be happy to!"_

 _He handed the stuffed bunny to a delighted Cissy, who held its mouth up to her ear as if hoping to hear a whisper like Daddy had. To either side of her, Andromeda and Bella were equally enraptured, and ready to be entertained. Daddy -_ no, Father _\- drew his wand. There were always special effects when he told a story._

 _"This is the tale of a clever witch, the world's first Animagus. A long, long time ago, before even the very first Blacks or Rosiers walked the earth, there lived a wicked and terrible Muggle king..."_

"No one is evil all the time." Andromeda fought to keep from looking sullen, but the memory bothered her for a multitude of reasons, not least of which was that she truly had forgotten there were good times, and it almost hurt more to remember them than to believe it had never been anything but bad. "I'm certain even your Dark Lord had his positive traits, eh? Was he a particularly good knock-knock joke teller? Or an expert at bird origami?"

"Stop that." Narcissa slapped her hand in a scolding fashion. "You're picking a fight and I won't be dragged into it. Tell me more about Kingsley and his fantasies. You ask him straight out?"

Andromeda couldn't help being slightly sore at her sister for starting that conversation then refusing to continue it, but in the interest of getting along, she dropped the subject and answered the question. "Yes and no. It isn't as if I have him write me a list, but when we're together, we tell each other things. Things we want to do to each other or would want done to us. Things we've never done but would like to. Sometimes we pretend to be other people."

"People you know?"

"Not specific people. But he'll play Professor to my naughty student, or I'll be an Azkaban guard and he's my prisoner... We used to meet in Muggle pubs once in awhile, pretend to be strangers, make up entirely new personas, and leave together." Catching her sister's expression of disbelief, she added, "It's fun!"

Narcissa let out an uncharacteristically undignified snort. "Could you imagine if I asked Severus to play Professor to my naughty student?"

"Maybe he'd like it." Andromeda grinned. "Over the years, he probably had a number of naughty students deserving of spankings. You know, they sell costumes and props here... though for that one, an old Hogwarts uniform will do in a pinch."

"You don't!" Narcissa grabbed Andromeda's bicep, digging in her nails. "You're telling me you wear an old Hogwarts uniform when having sex with the Minister for Magic?"

Andromeda tried to twist away, but her sister's grip only tightened. She laughed. "What else would I wear? He especially likes the tie." She picked up another vibrator, this one pink. "This is called a Rabbit. It's waterproof." She handed it to Narcissa.

"What does it do?"

"What do you think?"

"It looks like a torture device. Why does it need twelve settings? Aside from 'off' and 'on,' I can't imagine-"

Andromeda swatted the back of her thigh playfully. "You need a better imagination, then, love."

"Can I help you find anything?" A salesgirl in a pink and purple blouse, open over a black tank paired with a stylish black skirt approached them. "Are you and your girlfriend considering the waterproof Rabbit? It's one of our more popular sellers."

"She's my sister," said Andromeda. "And we're considering purchasing anything that will get her off my couch and back home with her husband. Have you anything useful for struggling straight couples over fifty?"

"Neither he nor I have yet reached _fifty,_ thank you," said Narcissa, shooting Andromeda a death glare. She turned back to the salesgirl. "But do you have... anything?"

"We have an entire section for couples looking to rekindle those fiery flames of passion! Right this way."

Andromeda sniggered immaturely at the description. She watched them go, checked the price on the pink Rabbit, and thought, 'Well, it's Kingsley's money I'm spending, so why not?' (While she resented what Narcissa had said about the joys of being too rich to work, she couldn't deny that it was nice shopping with money someone else earned... or inherited from wealthy parents.)

She had made her way to the Bondage & BDSM section and was perusing their selection of paddles and whips when she sensed someone standing behind her, staring, not speaking. She whipped around, unnerved, but thankfully it was only Dorcas.

"Hermione found me this," she whispered, holding out a book with a cover model who looked a lot like Dorcas had before Andromeda dragged her clothes shopping. "I think it will be too difficult to read but she's going to get the same one, plus extra copies for two of her friends, and we'll have a..." She dropped her voice even lower, as if what she was about to say was something quite scandalous. _"Book club."_

"The Third Son's Mistress," read Andromeda aloud. She turned it over to read the description on the back. 'Olivia Wilder has always been on the very edge of respectability, beautiful enough for parties with the aristocracy, but not the type a man would marry, but when the dying queen's third son takes her for a mistress, she is moved into the castle to..." She quickly gleaned over the rest. "Hermione's going to introduce you to her friends?"

"To Ginny Potter and Angelina Johnson and Luna Lovegood." Dorcas appeared terrified and somewhat sick. "They were in Dumbledore's Army. Ginny is married to famous Harry Potter. They all have... jobs. And... boys. And educations. What will we talk about? What if they hate me? What if they-"

"Why would they hate you?"

"Because they're war heroes and I'm noth-"

"If you call yourself 'nothing,' Dorcas, hand to Merlin I'll hex you from here to Hogwarts and back."

Dorcas blinked several times, looking very much like she wanted to argue but was too scared.

"Relax, Dorcas, I won't really hex you. And I think it would be wonderful for you to spend time with Hermione and her friends. They'll like you; just be yourself, and try not to look like you're afraid of them." Though she was not typically the type to show physical affection, especially not in public, she pulled the girl into a hug and spoke close to her ear. "I want you to have a better sense of self-worth than I do, and I want your life to be better than mine was. That's why you're going to school, right? You're going to study hard at Hogwarts and soak up all you can from Madam Pomfrey, and when you get to be my age you'll not be so broken."

"Sometimes I think about using again," Dorcas whispered into Andromeda's untamed hair. "I want to escape my situation so very badly, but I remind myself it's not much longer, only until Christmas, and then I'll be at Hogwarts, and once I leave I'm not going back."

"If you cannot safely stay there, you'll come stay with me, understand? I'll toss Narcissa off my couch so you can have it."

Dorcas giggled.

"I'm serious." Andromeda pulled back, holding the girl by her upper arms. "I told you before I don't want you stuck in a bad situation. You come straight to me if you need to."

"When I was at Hogwarts before, I used to pretend... in my head... that Bellatrix Lestrange was my mother." Dorcas bit her lip, hard, and glanced anywhere but at Andromeda's face before continuing. "Your Nymphadora was very lucky to have had you."

"Bella was a monster for what she did to me, and to my daughter, but I can't deny she did right by you." She caught the girl's face in both hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I think she would have been quite proud of you for returning to Hogwarts to study with Madam Pomfrey. Just as I am."

"I sampled too many chocolates and now I feel a tad queasy." Jean Granger was standing at the end of the aisle, looking vaguely green. She held up a pink and black paper shopping back. "I bought more to take home."

"Of the aphrodisiac chocolates?"

"No, these are the fruit-filled and alcohol-infused ones. But those were good too."

"Mum! You know those aren't good for your teeth!" Hermione joined them, appearing from the opposite end of the aisle, carrying a much larger paper shopping bag.

"What did you buy?" asked Jean.

"A book," answered Hermione.

"For giants?" asked Andromeda. "That bag is too big for-"

"A book and nothing else." Hermione tipped her chin up indignantly. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be waiting outside."

"She also bought a red corset, a silver bullet, hot wax 'playtime' candles - whatever those are - and a silk blindfold," said Narcissa, stepping in front of Hermione from around the side of a wrist restraint display. "I used Legilimency on her while she was paying."

Hermione's face went a whole rainbow of colors, from mortified red to sickly green to furious purple, all in under two seconds.

Dorcas started to giggle.

She couldn't stop.

"I'm... so... sorry..." she gasped, hiding behind her hair, trying to keep her shoulders from shaking. "But... your... face..."

Andromeda started to laugh too, and Narcissa, and Jean, and, finally, Hermione.

"Fine!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing up her hand. "I admit it, I bought more than just a book!"

"That's nice, dear," said Jean, trying to compose herself.

The others paid for their purchases (Andromeda got the toy she'd already picked out, plus a small purple ostrich feather and mini flogger combination pack that she impulsively plucked off the end of the BDSM section shelf and a bottle of Salted Caramel Oral Pleasure lubricant) and they headed outside to say goodbye. They found a safe space from which to travel (Hermione and Jean by portkey, the others by apparating) and agreed to meet for dinner some time soon.

Back at home, where Teddy was just finishing up a session with his tutor - "Look, Nana! I can change my eyes to two different colors!" - Narcissa kissed Hope, told her she'd be spending another night with her cousin, and hurried to her own home.

"Severus will be home soon." She patted her Erotic Emporium bag. "I want to be ready when he arrives."

"So we'll have an extra child again tonight?" Kingsley asked. He kissed Andromeda's cheek and tried to peek into her bag, but she held it behind her back. They were standing in the kitchen, alone.

"An extra... or two."

"Two?"

"I told Dorcas she could stay here."

"Oh." He glanced toward the sitting room through the kitchen door. Dorcas was seated on the floor, saying Hello to each of Teddy's therapy cats in turn while Hope whined about not being allowed to touch them. "For how long?"

"Through... Christmas?" Andromeda looked up at him hopefully. As this was now his home too, it occurred to her she probably should have asked him before insisting the girl stay, but it was too late now.

"Andromeda..." He spoke in a warning tone.

"Please, Kingsley, she needs out of that brothel!"

"If she starts drinking-"

"Drinking's never been one of her vices! She doesn't even like it."

"Or using drugs-"

"She hasn't touched anything like that since before she entered the facility."

"I don't want her to threaten your sobriety, same as I said about Narcissa." He kissed her gently. "I worry about you."

"It's only through Christmas, love. Two months. Then it's the two of us. And Teddy. And your bastard baby, maybe, come April. I'm not sure."

His hand threaded up into the back of her hair, at the base of her neck. "What did you buy?"

"Can she stay?"

"Did you buy anything to benefit me?"

She smiled slyly up at him. "That depends. Can she stay?"

"No drugs."

"Of course not."

"Or prostitution. I do not want men in and-"

"Kingsley!"

"Well!"

She pressed her lips to his, briefly sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, running her tongue along it. His grip tightened on the back of her neck, but otherwise, he made no response.

"No men, no drugs, no alcohol. I promise. And she says she can help with Teddy, which will make life much easier now that I'm working again." She nuzzled against his neck. "So, can she stay?"

"She can stay. But she may not sleep in our bed. It's too crowded as it is."

Andromeda laughed, placed a quick kiss to his lips, and handed him the bag from behind her back. "I'll thank you later."

But later, after getting an anxious Dorcas settled in, reading several bedtime stories to a wide-awake Teddy, and cleaning the bed after Hope, who drank too much water after eight pm, had an 'accident,' all they could think about was falling asleep.

"You think this is fun," said Andromeda, snuggling up beside him under the blanket. "Wait until there's a baby in the mix."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Please don't let that child be mine."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed Chapter 27! I hope you liked this longer, less drama-filled chapter. To answer clarasnotlikelys question, yes, we will see some of Teddy's therapy sessions. One was supposed to be in this chapter but it was just too long with too much going on, so it got bumped to 29. He's going to be working with those Therapy Cats.

Thanks times a thousand to those who reviewed C27: c **larasnotlikely, somethingnew2016, PopularCats, FrancineHibiscus, Kat, lilikaco, AstoriaRedfern, sassanech, emrldapplejuice,** and **kalilje**.

 **-AL**

 **PS:** If anyone is interested, I have two new fics going on at the moment. The first is a humor/romance/hurt/comfort called Someone Like You in which both Lucius and Draco are interested in Hermione (but Lucius is also hoping to reconcile with Narcissa and Hermione's just seeking a fling), and the second is a darker, more drama/angst-but-with-romance fic called Daughter of the Dark Lord, Or, the Corruption of Hermione Granger, which is a Bellatrix/Voldemort and Severus/Hermione story.


	29. Part Three: Week 3

**CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK THREE**

Andromeda awoke one week ago to the realization she was again in bed with someone other than Kingsley.

But this was not a small child, and this person was half on top of her, squeezing her arms. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her lips.

"It's me!" the person whispered.

"Fuck!" said Andromeda, though the sound was muffled by the hand. "Cissy, get off me!"

"I need to talk to you."

"What time is it?"

"Four, four-thirty? I've just come from Draco and Hermione's..."

"Are they alright?" Andromeda sat up, alarmed, holding the blanket to her chest. Thanks to her sister's white-blonde hair she could see her nodding in the dark.

"They're fine. I asked them to watch over both apothecaries for a week. I want to go away with Severus. When he wakes in the morning, I am surprising him with a trip. That's why I'm here."

"I'd love to go on a trip with you and Severus," said Andromeda, fighting back a yawn as she reclined into her back. "But I'm really very busy at the present..."

"Not with you!" Narcissa smacked her on the abdomen. "I need you to keep Hope for the next several days. We shall return on… Thursday evening. Just shy of one week from now. Please?"

"Cisssssy," whined Andromeda. She had enough going on with her job, Kingsley moving in, Dorcas taking over the sitting room, and Teddy's tutoring and therapy.

"We cared for your grandson for three months without question or complaint." Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "The least you can do is help me save my marriage by-"

"How _is_ your marriage?" Andromeda rolled onto her side. Narcissa knelt on the floor, arms folded on the mattress, facing her sister. On the other side of the bed, Kingsley snored, blissfully unaware they had a guest.

"Oh, Andromeda, that shop ought to be called the Court of Miracles. We spent tonight having the best sex we've had in… ever, maybe. Definitely the best we've had together. Four times thus far and I'm banking on at least once more when we wake up. Shattering a record for us. I won't be able to walk by breakfast."

"Lovely." Andromeda said tonelessly. Meanwhile, she and Kingsley were going on _how long_ without? More than six months, not counting that quickie in the facility.

"Get up," whispered Narcissa. "Come downstairs, make tea, and talk to me. My husband is dead to the world for at least another couple of hours and I need to tell someone about tonight."

"What's there to tell? You went home, had sex, enjoyed it… lather, rinse, repeat… and plan to do so again at sunrise. Besides, the kitchen is too close to the sitting room. We'll wake Dorcas."

"Let's lock ourselves in the loo, then. I have to talk to someone!"

"I can't get up right now, Cissy, I'm naked. It's four in the morning, I'm naked, and I want to go back to sleep. I have to work tomorrow!"

"You're naked?" Narcissa pinched the fabric of her oversized Holyhead Harpies t-shirt, which had belonged to Ted.

"I'm naked from the waist down."

"So you're not wearing knickers is what you're saying?"

"That's what naked from the waist down means, yes." Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Can I go back to sleep now? I'll be happy to watch Hope until you get back."

"Is… is the Minister naked too? From the waist down?"

"He's naked everywhere," answered Andromeda, slightly testily. "Why?"

"I just… is he a sound sleeper?"

As if to answer her question, he let out a loud snore and rolled onto his back.

"Why?" asked Andromeda. "Do you intend to assault him?"

"No! But… I mean, a little look wouldn't hurt, would it?" She leaned across her sister, eying his curiously. He was covered to his mid-chest by the blanket...

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Andromeda slapped Narcissa sharply on the wrist.

"I've never seen… a… you know. Man like him. Naked. From the waist down."

"A Ministry official?"

"You know!" Narcissa pinched Andromeda, who winced. In a whisper, she added, " _A black man._ Is he big?"

"That's a stereotype."

"Is it a true one?"

"I refuse to answer that, and I can't help thinking I ought to be offended by your question on his behalf, though he'd probably tell you the stereotype is steeped in truth because he's a man and men are like that. In any case, please don't fetishize my... Kingsley." Andromeda was glad her sister probably couldn't make out the blush creeping into her cheeks given the complete darkness of the room. "And no, you may not look upon him naked from the waist down. I think that erotic shop has addled your brain, you oversexed, empty-headed sea slug."

"I'll let you see Severus naked in exchange."

Andromeda snorted. "Why would I want to?"

Even in the dark, Andromeda could tell her sister was highly insulted. Before she could make a thing of it, Andromeda added, "Trust me, Cissy, I've seen enough of them to know they all look more or less the same. Sure, there are some deviations in size, color, and curve, and some are cut while others are not, but ultimately it's just a veiny, velvety rod with a hooded little head at one end and two sweaty balls stuck side-by-side in a sack of skin on the other."

"That is probably the most unappetizing description of the male anatomy ever to be spoken aloud," said Narcissa, clearly disappointed.

"It's a cock, Cissy, not a beef wellington. It doesn't have to be made to sound appetizing."

"Armondida," Kingsley mumbled, rolling onto his side and placing a hand on her left hip. "You talking a-someunn?"

"No, love, you're dreaming. Go back to sleep."

"Mmkay." He fell back to his back. Snoring commenced.

"Cissy, I'll watch Hope, she'll be fine. Go home and enjoy Severus for the next week, and don't ever, ever, _ever_ again offer to let me see him naked. Promise?"

"Goodnight, Meda." Narcissa kissed her sister on the forehead. Andromeda shoved her away. "Thank you!"

She rushed from the room, noisily closing the door behind her.

"Wassat Narcissa?" Kingsley mumbled, rolling again, this time to spoon Andromeda under the blankets.

"Yes, dear. She heard you're into having two women at once and wanted to volunteer her services, but I told her you find incest a turn-off."

"Mmhm, yes, I see," he mumbled, nodding as if she'd made an excellent point. His eyes did not open. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his around her waist.

"Go back to sleep, love."

The next morning, he was surprised when Andromeda told him Narcissa had dropped in to ask them to keep Hope.

"When was she here? I didn't see her."

"No, you just missed her." She kissed him before slipping from the bed in search of her work attire.

"I'm going to put up the photographs today, if you don't mind." He pulled himself from the bed, too, but most unwillingly as it was warm and comfortable and he was not looking forward to spending the entire day entertaining foreign dignitaries.

"I don't mind."

He'd shown them to her the night before. Three framed pictures, two of which had been on the walls in his Ministry residence, and one that he'd kept hidden in a drawer but now felt ought to be displayed. The first featured his parents, taken a number of years ago when they'd renewed their wedding vows, the second was of him and his beloved great-grandmother, who passed when he was nine, and the third was of a young Kingsley with an afro, wearing seventies bellbottoms, holding a baby in his lap. His son, Brighton. One of only two pictures he had of the two of them.

He put the one of his parents and the one with his grandmother on the wall, where she had up a number of family photos, and set the one with the baby on the mantle – the place of honor.

"It's a lovely picture, Minister Shacklebolt," she said, content with its placement between one of toddler Nymphadora and the one she'd put up to replace the torn one with Ted. "Every day, it feels more like you live here."

"I _do_ live here." He kissed her cheek. "Do you regret inviting me to move in?"

"Not at all." She'd turned and wrapped her arms around him and drew him down into a deep kiss, one that was promptly interrupted by Teddy, Hope, and Dorcas, all seeking breakfast.

That was one week ago, and in the seven days since, Andromeda felt they'd done a stellar job of raising one whiny toddler, one feisty child, and one shy girl who presented more like an anxious twelve-year-old than a woman of twenty.

Which is why it was particularly upsetting when Harry Potter showed up after work on Thursday with fire in his green eyes, his mouth set in a perpetual frown.

"You have a prostitute living here?" he growled, pushing his way in without invitation as soon as she'd opened the door. "You have a drug addicted prostitute sharing a bedroom with my godson!"

"Well she couldn't sleep on the couch forever, and his room is a decent size. We put up a wall to turn it into two, so they have their own private living spaces, though currently Teddy is sharing his with his cousin; I hope that's not a problem." Her tone was snarky but what she'd said was true. "What business is it of yours?"

 _"What business?"_ Harry stalked from the sitting room to the kitchen and back again, eyes darting around the room as if looking for contraband or paying customers. "Teddy is my business! Remus named him my godson so-"

"So you could do as well by him as Sirius did by you?"

It was a low blow and she instantly regretted it when his face contorted in furious pain.

"I told you before I'd not sit idly by and let him be raised by a-"

"A what, Harry? What are you going to call me this time? A slag? An addict? An alcoholic? I've heard them all – from you, from the Prophet, from perfect strangers on the street – and they don't even hurt anymore." This wasn't quite true. While she had indeed heard them all before, they still hurt. Every time.

"I don't want my godson growing up in a… in a…"

"In a… whorehouse? A brothel? A den of iniquity? Why do you think she's living here? Do you think I've got her working for me, servicing men for money in the room she shares with Teddy? Do you assume we're getting high together while Kingsley is at work? Do you really think so little of me that-"

"I don't know what to think of you!" He threw up his hands. "I haven't even seen Teddy since you were in St. Mungo's with Dragon Pox, and-"

"You saw him when I was in St. Mungo's?"

Harry stilled. Obviously that had been a secret, one even Teddy had managed not to divulge.

"Hermione!" breathed Andromeda, as his mind was not closed enough to keep her out. "She took Teddy to see you when I was ill."

"He's my godson. I have every right to-"

"As I told you before, Mr. Potter, he is legally my child, and I'll say who gets to see him. I wish you could be among those regularly in his life, but as you've been unable to shake this problem you have with me, I'll not have him-"

"HARRY!" Teddy flew down the stairs and flung himself at his godfather. "You comed!"

 _"Came_ ," corrected Andromeda. Harry shot her a look as if the boy's mistaken grammar was her fault.

"Blame your sneaky little friend for that one," she snapped. "Hermione's been working with him on his grammar and punctuation since I returned to work and he seems to be getting worse with it."

"I'm here, Teddy!" Harry tossed him into the air and caught him, wrapping him in a hug. "I've missed you, and so have Ginny and James Sirius!"

"I can come over?" Teddy looked hopefully to his grandmother.

"Not tonight," she said. "I'm making dinner."

"He can come to Grimmauld Place for dinner," Harry argued. "I'll bring him back after."

"Yay!" Teddy hugged Harry around the neck.

"No," said Andromeda firmly. "He will not be going. Not tonight. His therapist missed Tuesday's session because she was sick, so she's making it up tonight. He also has some Metamorph practices to do for his tutor, and academic workbook pages to complete before Hermione sees him tomorrow afternoon. Not tonight."

"Please, Nana? I want to go with Harry."

"You can come with me, mate." Harry flipped the boy upside down, to his delight, and turned to Andromeda. "I'll bring him back straight after dinner for his therapy session."

"I said no." Andromeda moved swiftly to Harry and took Teddy from him, balancing the boy on her hip. "I'll not have you undermining me in my home, Harry. I said no and I meant no. As his parent-"

"You will never be his parent." Harry ruffled Teddy's hair, keeping his tone and expression much lighter than his words. "You are his grandmother, Tonks and Remus were his parents, and I-"

"Have no legal power over him, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Again."

"This is a mistake, Andromeda." Harry allowed himself to be led toward the door. "You're only hurting Teddy."

"Think about _why_ you came here today, Harry. Think about the words you used, the tone, your actions. I am not your enemy, but since my stay in the facility you've been treating me-"

"Treating you like the person who was found half-dead on the floor by a traumatized five-year-old?"

"Are you going to throw that back in my face for the rest of my life? The way you've treated me since, it's clear you think it would have been better for all of us had I been found fully dead instead of only half." She both looked and sounded hurt, and by the way he avoided eye contact, she was certain he felt badly. Though not enough to apologize or contradict her statement.

"I care for Teddy as if he were my own son. I wish they'd left him to me-"

"But they didn't." She opened the door. Teddy was still on her hip, his eyes darting from his grandmother to his godfather and back again, a worried expression on his face. His hair turned from pink and curly to black and unruly, and his eyes went green.

"Maybe tomorrow for dinner?" asked Teddy in a small, hopeful voice. He did not understand what was happening between the grownups, but he knew he did not like it.

"I don't think so," said Andromeda stonily, at the same time Harry, wearing a forced smile, said, "Soon, mate!"

Kingsley arrived via Floo as Andromeda was closing the door.

"Was that Narcissa for Hope?"

"No." Andromeda set Teddy down. "Go help Hope clean up the art table, then come back down to wash for dinner."

"But Nana…"

"Now."

He obeyed, but he stomped up every stair and slammed the door when he reached his room, prompting Hope to shout, "AUNTIE! TEDDY SLAMMED THE DOOR!"

"Kingsley," said Andromeda calmly, facing him. She held out her arms. "I need you to hold me."

She did not cry, not quite, but she buried her face against his soft woolen Muggle jumper and struggled to breathe evenly. She told him what had happened.

"It's Teddy who suffers. I don't want to keep him from Harry because I know their relationship is important, but if that holier-than-thou little git doesn't stop looking at me like I'm the Whore of Babylon…"

"I don't know what the Whore of Babylon is."

"The mythological mother of harlots." Thinking of Dorcas, she chortled bitterly. "Which I am, in a sense, I suppose. The point is, it's the same fight with Harry. He thinks, because of what happened in April, I am incapable of raising Teddy. He refuses to see how far I've come, or to care about all the time and effort I've put into getting better. I do not understand how he, of all people, can fail to understand that people change. He admires Severus, a man he spent years hating. He is friendly with Draco, his boyhood rival. But what I did, that's so unforgivable?"

"I'll speak with Harry."

"Don't bother."

"I will. I want to. I don't intend to scold or threaten him, but I want to understand his position. I want to know why he harbors such anger toward you."

She sighed, then breathed deeply, again inhaling the mixed scent of his jumper and soap.

"You smell incredible," she murmured against his chest. "Could I eat you for dinner?"

He laughed, his big, booming laugh, and kissed the top of her head. "Hope is still here?"

"I received an owl requesting 'one more night.' I hope that means it's going well and not that Cissy's killed him and needs more time to dispose of the body."

She took his hand and led him into the kitchen, where cottage pie was almost ready. She put a small portion on a plate and began mushing and mixing it up for Hope, who wouldn't eat it otherwise.

"This is one of my favorite meals." He wrapped his arms around her from behind. "I meant what I said last night, Andromeda."

"I know you did," she said quietly.

"I respect you for the independent woman you are, but-"

"I know, Kingsley." She turned to put the little ones' plates on the table. "Let me think it over."

"Alright." He placed a quick peck on the end of her nose, which made her smile. "I'll summon the children."

"And Dorcas."

"I was including her when I said 'the children.'"

"She's an adult."

"Had my son survived, he'd be older than she is, just as Nymphadora would be. Considering, I think it's appropriate for us to include her among the children." He kissed her again before heading for the stairs. She finished serving and poured drinks while she waited for them to come down. About a minute later, Kingsley reentered with pink-haired Teddy by his side and Hope in his arms. Dorcas trailed behind.

"Could I help you with anything?" she whispered, looking anxiously at Andromeda as if she would be punished for not offering sooner.

"All I need you to do is sit." Andromeda took Hope from Kingsley and placed her on the chair that had been transfigured to be taller than the others. Teddy sat across from her, Dorcas sat beside her, and Andromeda and Kingsley settled at either end. If Andromeda squinted, she could almost pretend she was sitting down for dinner with her daughter and two grandchildren – Nymphadora had been clear from early in her pregnancy she wanted more than one – and with Ted. As much as she loved Kingsley, and she truly did, there was still a part of her that lamented that life lost, growing old with the man she'd fallen for at age sixteen, never leaving the home they'd saved up to buy together, watching their daughter enjoy her child as they'd enjoyed theirs.

"Alright, woman?" asked Kingsley.

She smiled.

"I'm fine, thank you, and don't call me woman."

That night, after dinner, Dorcas offered to take Hope up to give her a bath and plait her hair while Teddy had his therapy session. Kingsley retired to the desk he'd moved from his Minister's Quarters into her bedroom – _their bedroom_ – to do some paperwork, while Andromeda busied herself cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen.

About five minutes into Teddy's session, though, she heard something that made her curious.

"Harry Potter Cat is not allowed in the house. He's a bad cat and Nan – I mean, Mummy Cat – does not like him anymore."

She never spied on his sessions, fully and firmly believing he had the same right to privacy while in therapy as any adult could expect, but she crept toward the door to have a look and listen.

He was seated on the floor across from Healer Artemisia Bonham with Nymphadora's old handmade wooden dollhouse between them. The house was impressive. It had three floors, plus an attic with a sloped ceiling, multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, dining room, one and a half bathrooms, a nursery, a formal parlor, and a small casual sitting room (complete with wooden Muggle telly, designed to mimic those made in the 1950s with a picture that changed with the turn of a crank). Nymphadora had turned one of the bedrooms into a Potions lab and made Quidditch and Weird Sisters posters for the walls of one of the other bedrooms, but most of it was decorated exactly as it had been when they bought it in 1978. It had been an extravagant purchase at the time, but one they never regretted.

The Therapy Cats were spread out in front of the house. Teddy had one in each hand. In his left, the Mummy, a dark gray tabby wearing a green and pink dress and pearl necklace. In his right, the orange tabby with the glasses whose head had been magically reattached after the incident with Hope.

"Why doesn't Mummy Cat like Harry Potter Cat anymore?"

Teddy shrugged. He dropped Harry Potter Cat on the floor. "Mummy Cat gets mad sometimes. Harry Potter Cat gets made too. I don't know why." He reached for a tuxedo cat wearing a red jumper and jeans. "Kings – I mean, Daddy Cat – he never gets mad… mostly."

"No?"

Teddy shook his head.

"There's a new cat." He reached into the bag, rummaging around until he pulled out one that was bigger than the Teddy and Hope kittens but smaller than the Mummy and Daddy. "This is Big Sister Cat. She lives up here." He placed her in one of the bedrooms.

"Tell me about these cats." She tapped the two little ones, a boy and a girl. "Are they still 'in a fight'?"

"No." Teddy picked up the boy kitten. "Teddy Cat is trying to be nicer to Cousin Cat from now on because she is smaller and stupider than him."

Andromeda hid a snicker.

"How does Teddy Cat feel about having two more big cats in the house?"

Teddy shrugged. "He likes having Daddy Cat, but…"

"But…?"

"But it's not really Daddy Cat." He picked up the tuxedo cat in the red jumper and threw him into the attic. "There's no real Daddy Cat and Mummy Cat. Just pretend."

"Why don't we switch them out, then?" Healer Bonham suggested gently. She reached for Mummy Cat. "We could put Nana Cat in the house, and-"

"No!" He grabbed her back, clutching her to his chest. "I want Mummy and Daddy Cat with the kittens and Big Sister Cat. And Baby Cat." He tapped the tiny calico in the cradle. "Baby Cat died in real life but in my pretend he's a little brother."

"He died in real life?"

In the doorway, Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. She felt just as confused as the Healer looked. Teddy pointed to a picture on the mantle, the one featuring young Kingsley with his baby son in his lap, and she understood.

"That was Kings – _Daddy Cat's_ baby. He died, like the real Mummy and Daddy Cat." Teddy screwed up his face like he might cry. "It's not fair. I want a real family."

"You have a real family, Teddy. We've talked about this. What is a family? People who love each other, people who may or may not live togeth-"

"Freddy Weasley has a mummy and daddy who live together, and Orlando Granger has a mummy and daddy but they live in different houses, and Hope has a mummy and daddy on holiday, and-"

"Not every child has a mummy and daddy. I told you about when I was your age, remember? I did not have a daddy."

"Your daddy leaved."

"He did. He left before I was born, and I was raised by my mummy alone, and that's okay – my mother and I were family. We loved each other and shared our home, and we didn't need a daddy or a baby brother to be a real family."

"Daddy Cat got mad at Teddy Cat one time." Teddy picked up the tuxedo cat and the boy kitten. "When Nana – I mean, Mummy Cat – was sick in the faculty…"

"Facility."

"Facility. Daddy Cat taked Teddy Cat to a football tournament, like for Quidditch but it's a Muggle sport. The kids all got signed up and put on teams and the teams played matches against each other. I got on the Silver Dragons. At break time for lunch they said, 'Go find your mums and dads.' I went to Kingsley. I mean, Teddy Cat went to Daddy Cat." Teddy made the kitten move as if running toward the tuxedo cat. "But then after lunch, this boy…" He reached into the bag for another boy kitten. "He said, 'That's not your dad!' and Teddy Cat said, 'Is too!' and the boy said 'No! He don't look like you!'" Teddy moved both kittens like they were speaking to each other. "Teddy Cat said 'He is too my dad and you don't know anything!' and the boy said, 'I bet you don't even have a dad!' and Teddy Cat got mad and then King – Daddy Cat – got mad too."

"What did Teddy Cat do when he got mad?"

Andromeda strained to see, leaning farther into the room, as Teddy used the kittens to act out one pushing the other down and kicking him in the face.

"Teddy Cat called him a stupid git and a bloody tosser and maybe kicked him in his face one or two or five times."

"One or two or five?"

"Maybe five." Teddy put both kittens down and reached for the tuxedo cat. "Daddy Cat picked up Teddy Cat and the lady with the list of names said we had to go home and never come back because they don't allow bullies in the football teams."

"And Daddy Cat was angry with Teddy Cat for this?"

Teddy ducked his head and sniffled. "He said…" Teddy dropped his voice low and tried to look stern, imitating Kingsley when in Minister mode. "'Young man, you are supposed to kick the ball, not your teammates. I am very disappointed in your behavior.' If Teddy Cat had a real dad…"

"Dad or no dad, you know it was very wrong to kick that boy in the face."

Teddy nodded.

"But it was also very wrong of him to tease you like that. He was bullying, and it's okay to admit he hurt your feelings."

Teddy nodded again.

"Let's try something. I'll hold Daddy Cat, you hold Teddy Cat, and Teddy can tell Daddy how he felt when he had to leave that football tournament."

Teddy held up Teddy Cat and spoke in a squeaky voice – his cat voice. "Daddy Cat, I feeled bad because I made you mad and you were very disappointed, but I was mad too. I was mad at the boy and also I was mad at you and also I was mad at Nana and my real dad. I was mad at my real dad the most because he did not love me like how my mummy did not love me."

Andromeda clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

"Why do you think your mummy and daddy didn't love you?" asked Healer Bonham-as-Kingsley/Daddy Cat, her voice deep. She moved the tuxedo cat closer to Teddy Cat to pat the toy comfortingly on the arm with a fuzzy plastic paw.

"When Nana was sick, everybody said 'she is getting better because she loves you.' Then she comed home because she got better, because she loves me. But mummy and daddy didn't come home because they didn't get better because they didn't… they didn't…" Teddy dropped the cat. His face crumpled, and he began to cry. Andromeda nearly darted into the room to hold him, but Artemisia, catching the movement, shook her head. The Healer pulled Teddy into her arms and rocked him, but waved his grandmother back.

Andromeda hovered just out of sight in the doorway through the rest of the session, listening as Healer Bonham calmed Teddy and reassured him that he was loved and that 'getting better' didn't work that way. She reminded him that the real Harry Potter's mum and dad died when he was a baby too and that his mother loved him so much her love was the reason he was able to defeat You Know Who.

"My mummy and daddy loved me like that?" asked Teddy hopefully, cradling the Teddy Cat against his chest. "Nana shows me pictures, but I don't remember them."

That night, in bed, Andromeda snuggled up to Kingsley and told him about the session.

"It might be good for him to talk to Harry about that," said her boyfriend delicately. "I could take him to Grimmauld Place and supervise the conversation, but hearing it from Harry directly might mean more than hearing it from a Healer. And Harry can reassure him that his parents loved him."

"I tell him that!"

"I know you do." He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. She rested her cheek against his bare chest. Now that Dorcas was sharing the divided room with the children, they weren't getting up all night to crawl into bed with the adults. It seemed just knowing she was nearby was enough to keep them feeling safe and staying tucked in, which meant Kingsley could sleep in nothing but undershorts… or less… though Andromeda continued to remain at least partially dressed in case of emergencies (tonight in a tight tank top and pajama bottoms).

"I tell him all the time how much his mother loved him, how much I love him. I don't understand why he's so desperate for a mother and father, why I'm not enough."

"It's not about you." He ran his fingertips up and down her forearm, the one resting across his midsection. "Your parents didn't die when you were a baby. You didn't grow up unable to remember them."

"He didn't worry so much about this when he was smaller."

"Now he's bigger. And I hate to say it, but I think the fear of losing you exacerbated his sense of loss in regards to them. When he was smaller, he didn't know what he was missing. You were the only parent he'd ever known. As he gets older, he's realizing he's different from other children, and he's afraid you won't be here forever. That's why he wants a mother and father and a promise of permenancy."

"You sound like Artemisia Bonham." She kissed the center of his chest, letting the fuzzy hair there tickle her nose before pulling back. "How did you get so smart?"

"I've been reading a book Narcissa lent me. You should read it too. It's called Stages of Grief. There's a whole chapter on orphaned children."

"Kingsley?" She took his wrist and rolled onto her right side, pulling him with her so they were spooning. He nuzzled against the back of her neck. "Why do you want me to quit my job?" That's the request he'd made the night before, that she quit St. Mungo's once and for all. "If I don't work, what will I do all day?"

"Tutor Dorcas. Work with Teddy. Shop. Clean. Cook. Do the crossword." He pressed his lips to the soft skin of her shoulder. "Be my woman."

"Live to serve you?"

He laughed. "Quite the opposite. I want a queen, not a house-elf."

"I work because I have to, because-"

"But you don't have to. I have money."

"You want me for a trophy wife, like Narcissa?"

"You've been working – and working hard – for over thirty years. Would it be so bad to be my trophy wife?" He coaxed her onto her back and pressed his lips gently to hers, positioning his body over her. "You could write that book Healer Smelthwick said you should. You have a talent for words. And you don't enjoy directing patients, do you?"

"Not at all."

"You take care of me, woman." Their lips met in another tender kiss as his fingers splayed against her rib, under her tank-top. "Let me take care of you."

"I still can't believe I'm sleeping with the Minister for Magic," she murmured against his mouth. "I'm going to be trophy wi… the trophy _girlfriend_ of a very powerful man."

He chuckled without pulling away, so she felt the vibration of his laugh against her lips.

"Let me have you tonight." His hand ventured up higher, over her breast under her shirt. "Let me make you feel…"

"Yes," she whispered, slipping her hands up his arms to rest on the backs of his shoulders. "Yes, Kingsley, please…"

* * *

 **A/N:**

Sorry this one was a little shorter. Hope you enjoyed seeing some of Teddy's therapy.

Thank you to **somethingnew2016, clarasnotlikely, lilikaco, emrldapplejuice, sassanech, kalilje,** and **FrancineHibiscus** for reviewing Chapter 28!

 **-AL**


	30. Part Three: Week 4

**CHAPTER THIRTY**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK FOUR**

It was a week ago when he asked her to quit her job, when he said he wanted to take care of her. It was a week ago when their dry spell ended.

 _"You take care of me, woman." Their lips met in another tender kiss as his fingers splayed against her rib, under her tank-top. "Let me take care of you."_

 _"I still can't believe I'm sleeping with the Minister for Magic," she murmured against his mouth. "I'm going to be trophy wi… the trophy_ girlfriend of _a very powerful man."_

 _He chuckled without pulling away, so she felt the vibration of his laugh against her lips._

 _"Let me have you tonight." His hand ventured up higher, over her breast under her shirt. "Let me make you feel…"_

 _"Yes," she whispered, slipping her hands up his arms to rest on the backs of his shoulders. "Yes, Kingsley, please…"_

He'd undressed her slowly, giving her ample opportunity to change her mind, while he kissed her lips and caressed her body and called her his woman.

"I love you," she murmured into his mouth as his positioned himself over her, at her entrance.

"You can tell me if you don't want this." He brushed his nose against hers and breathed in sharply as her short nails dug into his bare shoulders. "You can tell me if you want me to stop…"

"Don't stop." She kissed the corner of his lips. "I love you and I want this."

She gasped when he slipped into her – it had been awhile – and he paused, concerned, but she chuckled.

"I'm not going to break, Kingsley." She kissed him again, her hands moving to his hips, urging him to move.

When she was young, she thought "making love" was a ridiculous, nonsense euphemism for an act that didn't have to have anything to do with love at all. Not that she never loved the person she was with – she had loved Ted, genuinely, and she briefly thought she might love the man with whom she'd had that affair… and she'd frequently told Barnaby, her first post-widowing relationship, that she loved him – but with Kingsley, now, for the first time since the quick mistake in the facility, more than six months after the last time they'd been together at home, she felt she truly understood and appreciated the phrase.

It wasn't the best sex they'd ever had. It wasn't lust-driven or exciting or frenzied, it wasn't rough or multi-positional or the stuff of fantasies, she didn't have consecutive orgasms and he didn't see stars when he finished inside her, but it was perfect for them, in that moment. He went to roll off her upon completion, but she wrapped her arms around him, holding him flush against her. He relaxed on top of her, breathing hard, his heart pounding.

"I'm sorry for everything I've done that's hurt you," she whispered just centimeters from his ear. "I wish I could change the past."

"I've done just as much to hurt you." He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "I never should have wondered whether you're a 'good enough fuck' to-"

She cupped his face between her hands, gazing up at him with wide, watery eyes. "I know you didn't mean that."

"I shouldn't have said it."

"I said worse."

"It's not a competition." He pressed a quick peck to her lips. "I said it to hurt you and I know it did."

"Am I?"

"Are you what?"

This time, she let him roll off, but he pulled her with him. She rested her cheek to his chest as her fingertips went to the space between his pecs; she scratched the soft hair there in the way she knew he liked.

"Am I a good enough fuck to be worth all this trouble?"

"You are not 'a fuck.'" His fingertips ran lightly up and down her spine from her neck to her tailbone. "I wouldn't have asked you to marry me if I saw you as nothing more than a willing cunt in which to stick my cock, Andromeda."

"Such a way with words, Minister. If only your constituents could hear you," she teased.

He smirked.

"Yes, well, with the possible exception of your sister, one cannot be the very personification of dignity and class at all times."

"Yes, my sister certainly seemed like the personification of dignity and class when she was here in our bedroom in the middle of the night, asking for permission to look upon you naked while you slept."

"What?" He tried to sit up. She coaxed him back down.

"Never mind, dear." She kissed his jaw. "It was nothing."

"Which of us was naked?"

"Hm?"

" _She_ wanted to look upon _me_ while _she_ was naked, or-"

Andromeda laughed. "No, _you_ were asleep, naked, and she wanted a peak. Don't worry, I said no. Even after she offered to let me see Snape starkers in exchange."

"I doubt you can see _anything_ when he's starkers. The man's paler than you are. When free from the confines of his frock coat, all that white skin is probably blinding. It's a wonder your sister doesn't need to wear sunglasses to bed."

"Who says she doesn't? Assuming she can find a pair to compliment the dog collar."

They both cracked up at this.

"We are terrible, snarky, uncouth people, aren't we, love?" She nuzzled against him.

He tightened his grip around her.

"Yes, but I wouldn't want us any other way."

Now it was one week later, Friday, the morning of Halloween.

"Nana, I can go to Harry's?" Teddy asked for the thirteenth time since he woke up an hour ago.

Harry and Ginny were hosting a kid-friendly Halloween party and all of Andromeda's grandson's friends were attending, so how could she say no? (As much as she wanted to.) Kingsley had agreed to bring him and pick him up afterward so she wouldn't have to interact with Potter, and under no circumstances was the boy to stay the night. Kingsley had commended her for this decision, for putting Teddy ahead of herself, which almost annoyed her. She would always put Teddy first... she just didn't like making Potter happy by doing so.

"Yes, Teddy, you may go to Harry's." He whooped and started to run from the kitchen. She caught hold of his arm. "You may go _if_ you eat all of your breakfast, finish those two workbook pages for Hermione, and clean up your bedroom."

"Dorcas cleaned my bedroom this morning."

"Dorcas?" Andromeda looked to the girl, who was seated at the table with a bowl of porridge in front of her. She ducked her head, hiding behind her hair. "Dorcas, I told you he needs to learn to clean his messes himself, didn't I?"

"Yes, but…" Dorcas peaked at Andromeda between dark auburn and pale ginger strands. (A haircut and color had been Hermione's belated twentieth birthday gift to the girl earlier in the week, after Dorcas cried upon being recognized in public by a former 'client.')

"But…?" prodded Andromeda.

"But his bedroom was so very messy and he said he didn't think he could do it all by himself, it was too big a job, plus he said Hope helped make the mess, and Hope isn't here to help clean, and he also said he was just too small to put things on the higher shelves. He said, as a grown-up and sort of a big sister, I could do my part to help by-"

"Edward Remus Lupin, you sit down, finish your porridge, and apologize to Dorcas for manipulating her. You know you can reach those shelves just fine with your footstool, and Hope didn't make any of that mess because she hasn't been here in days."

His cheeks went pink as he returned to his chair.

"Sorry, Dorcas."

She nodded, head still ducked, and sniffled. "It's alright. And I'm sorry if I upset you, Andromeda. I won't do it again."

"Dorcas." Andromeda reached for her, to brush the hair back from her face. She flinched.

"Dorcas, we're not going to hit you." Kingsley looked at her over the top of his newspaper. He was having eggs, toast, beans, grilled tomato, and coffee for breakfast, which he'd proudly (and pretty terribly) made himself while Andromeda was in the shower. "We simply want you to remember that you are not a house-elf and Teddy is not your master. It is not your job to clean up after him, or anyone else for that matter." Hiding a smirk, he added, "Let Andromeda do it."

She threw a napkin at him. He laughed.

"How's your breakfast, love? Do you like your eggs burnt to a crisp on one side with runny whites on the other?"

"No."

"Don't tease me then, or you'll be frying your own eggs for the rest of your natural born life."

That wiped the smirk off his face.

After putting milk in her own coffee, she settled into the empty chair across from Dorcas. Her meal this morning was a bowl of fruit. Since she quit using drugs, she was gaining quite a bit of weight, and she wasn't loving the way her blouse buttons were starting to strain or the pink line left on her lower abdomen each night after pulling off too-tight jeans. She selected a strawberry first and sighed. She would much rather have an omelette or croissant.

"Anything interesting in the news?" she asked.

"Thorfinn Rowle's new trial starts next week," he said casually. She bristled at this, and noticed a similar reaction from Dorcas.

"Do you know him?" she asked the girl. Dorcas nodded.

"His wife, too. They're… scary. He would take girls into the back room sometimes, the one with the... the restraints on the walls, and she liked to watch…" Dorcas glanced anxiously at Teddy before adding in a whisper, "He liked to leave them bruised or bleeding."

"Did he?" Kingsley regarded her carefully. "Would you testify to that in front of the Wizengamot?"

"No, Kingsley, don't ask that of her!" Andromeda glanced at Teddy. "Young man, get your finger out of your nose and go wash your hands."

Teddy dragged his chair to the sink to reach the faucet.

"He never asked for me," whispered Dorcas, her eyes huge and fearful. "But you can ask the other girls. Sarah – he did awful things to Sarah. She had to see a Healer. And Grace. She wouldn't do what he asked so his wife chopped her hair off up to her ears with a severing charm. She wouldn't tells us what she'd said no to. And they once used the..." She dropped her voice even lower, so low they almost couldn't hear her. "The _Cruciatus Curse_ on Tilly until she went unconscious. They weren't allowed back after that."

Kingsley swore under his breath, fury flashing in his eyes, but he composed himself quickly.

"Thank you. I'll pass this information along to Harry when I drop Teddy off tonight. He and Perkins can go question them on Monday."

"Perhaps you should send a pair of female Aurors instead, dear." Andromeda picked at one of her raspberries. "The girls may not wish to discuss such things with Potter and Perkins."

"Ah, good point. That leaves it to Collier and Mahmoud, then, because Treadwell is still on maternity leave." He sighed. "I wish we had more women in the Auror Department. The last one I trained was Tonks, and…" He abruptly cut off the sentence when he saw how both Teddy and Andromeda stiffened at mention of her.

"Harry calls my mummy Tonks." Teddy dragged his chair back to its spot and clambered onto it. "He says she hated the name Nymphadora."

"Well, _I_ liked the name Nymphadora and since I birthed her, it was my choice." Andromeda forced a small smile, deciding to change the subject. "Anything more fun in the news? How are the Holyhead Harpies faring this season?"

Kingsley flipped a few pages ahead. "Two matches thus far, won both by a landslide. Ginny is back to flying full-time and she was made co-captain as of the start of the season. Gwenog Jones is coaching, second year in a row. I'd bet on them to make it into the next Quidditch World Cup, honestly, they've never flown better as a team. Should we try to attend a match before it gets too cold?"

"Yes!" shouted Teddy, accidentally tossing his spoon when he threw up his hands. Thanks to the thick porridge he'd just scooped, it stuck to the wall behind him for about two seconds before beginning a slow sliding descent down to the floor. "Oops."

Dorcas started to giggle and snort and couldn't stop, which made Andromeda, Kingsley, and Teddy laugh too.

Though Andromeda felt a bit sick over the realization that her name would likely be in the news again soon, thanks to the new trial, it was a good day. She and Dorcas went to the shops and had a light lunch while Teddy accompanied Kingsley into the Ministry to be his 'assistant.' They picked Teddy up around one and returned home so he could have a session with his tutor while Andromeda worked with Dorcas on her reading comprehension and spelling until it was time to get Teddy ready to go.

"You could go to the party too, you know," Andromeda said, shortly before it was time for Kingsley and Teddy to leave. "Ginny invited you. Hermione, Luna, and Angelina will be there." Ginny, Luna, and Angelina Johnson-Weasley had all joined Hermione's Dirty Little Book Club. THat's what she'd named it, much to Dorcas' embarrassment upon receiving an official invitation.) They'd had their first meeting on Monday to discuss chapters one and two. Andromeda had ended up reading most of it aloud to Dorcas, who struggled to decipher the words _and_ make sense of what they meant at the same time, but the goal was to have her doing it on her own before long.

"Too many people. I'd rather stay home with you."

Andromeda shrugged. "Suit yourself, but I'll just be deep-cleaning the kitchen, organizing the canned goods, and doing the crossword while Kingsley works from home."

"That sounds fun. I'll help!"

Andromeda suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She was trying to make the evening sound as dull as possible so the girl would want out and she could have a few hours alone with Kingsley.

Green flames in the fireplace flared up then and out stepped Narcissa with Hope on her hip.

"Happy Halloween, Meda."

"Happy Halloween, Cissy. Is Hope excited to be attending a party without her parents?"

"I'm going to eat all the candy!" Hope squealed delightedly. "And puddings and cakes and tarts and-"

"We're on a diet," Narcissa explained.

"Both of you? She's three!"

"It's a family diet. Severus and I are trying to eat healthier, so Hope is too." She set her daughter down and ruffled her hair, which today was carefully arranged in green ribbons and pin-curls. She wore a frilly black and orange dress with stockings that had spider webs printed all over and black patent leather shoes. Narcissa, similarly, was in a long black witch's robe over a burnt orange floor-length dress, paired with shiny heels. Her hair was swept up into a braid.

Andromeda glanced down at her own Halloween-themed attire - a black Weird Sisters concert tee and ripped jeans - and back at her sister.

"Bit dressed up for an evening at Grimmauld Place, no?"

Narcissa jutted her chin up haughtily. "When we attend parties, we wear our party clothes."

"We must always look our best and dress to impress!" added Hope, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in her skirt. She looked to her mother for praise.

"Oh, ew." Teddy had just entered the room and spotted his cousin. "You're here."

 _"Teddy…"_ Andromeda shot him a warning look.

"You look nice, Hope." It clearly pained him to say it, and he did so without inflection, but the little girl beamed and twirled, making the skirt of her dress flare out.

"Thank you, Teddy! Mummy says I'm the loveliest little girl ever to live and Daddy says he's never seen a prettier more perfect princess!"

"Merlin's beard," muttered Andromeda. This time, she couldn't hold back on the eye-roll. Teddy, at the same time, pretended to retch. (Hope didn't notice.)

"We want our daughter to grow up with a healthy sense of self-confidence," said Narcissa defensively. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

Andromeda didn't answer.

"Hello, Mrs. Snape." Dorcas entered, followed by Kingsley. "How do you do?"

"I've told you to call me Narcissa."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm doing well, thank you. I see you've changed your hair?"

"It was a belated birthday present from Hermione." Dorcas smiled shakily, and tugged at the end of her ponytail.

"It's beautiful. The color suits you."

Dorcas' small faux smile morphed into a broad, genuine one. "Thank you, Mrs. – er – Narcissa."

While Dorcas helped Andromeda ready the children to Floo together to Grimmauld Place (Hope suddenly needed the bathroom; Teddy couldn't find his trainers) Kingsley made small talk with Narcissa.

"How is Severus? I know this day is difficult for him."

"I'd like to think it gets easier every year, but I honestly don't think it does, and how could I blame him? I still spend the anniversary of my husband's execution sobbing into my pillow."

"I've never apologized to you for that." He took one of her hands between his. "Narcissa, I _am_ sorry. In my haste to uphold the law and ensure justice, by vote I allowed the Ministry to engage in a practice that had been deemed cruel and unusual in this country long ago, but it was wrong. I know nothing I say can ever-"

"I love Lucius. I always will. But Minister, if he hadn't died, where would he be now?" She gently pulled her hand away. "Home, watching me help our son plan his wedding? Or serving a life sentence in Azkaban, a fate some say is worse than death?"

Kinglsey chose his words carefully. "While I cannot say beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am reasonably certain he never would've spent a day outside prison, had he not been executed."

"He wouldn't have wanted that and neither would I." She kissed Kingsley on the cheek. "But thank you for the apology."

Eager to ease the tension, he stepped back and said, "If it would make you feel better, you could look upon me naked while I sleep tonight. Tell Andromeda I said it's alright."

Narcissa's face went from pink to red to a shade of puce he'd never quite seen on a person before.

"She _told_ you?!"

"We strive to have an open and honest relationship."

"Oh, Minister, I… I have no… no excuse… and no words… I… I don't know what I was thinking, I…"

He laughed, a big, booming laugh. "Think nothing of it. I was flattered. And, for what it's worth… what Andromeda called a stereotype? It's true."

"Oh, Merlin, no!" She covered her brightly-colored face with her hands.

"What's going on in here?" asked Andromeda, entering with Teddy on her hip. "His trainers were under our bed. How they got there or why, I have no idea."

"Meow-Meow must've moved them." Teddy wriggled down. "What's wrong, Auntie?"

"Nothing!"

Dorcas returned to the room with Hope, who rushed to her mummy for a hug goodbye. Kingsley, holding both small children, stepped into the fireplace as Andromeda tossed the Floo Powder.

"Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

And they were gone.

Narcissa quickly explained what had her so mortified in front of the Minister, smacked Andromeda (who was laughing too hard to stand up straight) on the upper arm, and called her a series of names no 'personification of class and dignity' would ever utter. Once she'd composed herself, Andromeda invited her sister to stay for tea and scones.

"I would, but I have to get home to Severus, you know how he gets on Halloween." Narcissa hugged her sister and said goodnight to Dorcas. "Thank you for offering to keep Hope overnight."

"We don't mind. Brunch with Jean tomorrow?"

"Yes, but no mimosas. Severus was very clear."

"I'll keep a close eye on you to see you don't slip up."

Narcissa stepped into the fireplace, and, a second later, green flames whirled her away.

Andromeda threw together an early dinner, pan-seared salmon and greens, while Dorcas did her homework at the table. By the time Kingsley was back, they were ready to eat.

After dinner, as they still had nearly two hours before he'd need to retrieve the children, Andromeda broke out Scrabble.

"It will be good for Dorcas! She's becoming a better speller by the day."

"I am not playing that game." Kingsley looked to the girl. "And you shouldn't either. She's ruthless. She won't even let Teddy win, and he's five."

"How will he learn if I let him win?" She set the board up on the table and pulled out the bag of tiles. "The two of you can play as a team, if you'd like. I don't mind slaughtering two in one go."

"Maybe it'll be fun!" said Dorcas, taking a spot at the table. "Please, Minister?"

"Kingsley," he corrected her. "Fine. But I warned you."

"Brilliant!" Andromeda beamed. "I could use a win tonight."

Ninety minutes and two Triple Word Scores later, Andromeda was feeling much less confident.

"Almost out of tiles!" Kingsley laughed. "We get another word like that one, Dorcas, and we've won it."

"You're cheating." Andromeda's expression darkened. "You must be cheating."

"Is someone a sore loser?" He smirked. "We've got twelve points on you and you have five tiles left. Let's see what you come up with, woman."

She managed TRIPLE, bringing her back into the lead, but barely. Dorcas studied the letters before her and those on the board. Kingsley reached for a tile, but she stopped him.

"I can use the last Triple Word Score," she said, pointing to where Andromeda's latest word ended.

"How?" asked the elder witch. "There isn't a D or S left in the game."

"I read this word in my comprehension homework earlier this week." She put down three tiles, the last at the end of TRIPLE, making it TRIPLEX, with an E and a blank above the X. "The blank is an S."

"Sex is a word," said Andromeda. "Clearly. But triplex is-"

"Triplex is a word!" Dorcas handed her the dictionary they kept on the table in case of challenges. "I'm positive. See for yourself."

Andromeda flipped through until she found it. Her jaw dropped cartoonishly, and then she slammed the book down on the table and swore.

"That's 85 points!" Kingsley stood up and slapped his hands on the table. "We win! And. You. Lose. Read it and weep. Triplex and Sex. Triple Word Scores for both. And that's how the game is played! Boom!"

"I didn't _want_ to play 'sex,'" said Dorcas. "But I had a blank tile and an E and I couldn't think what else had three letters and ended in 'ex.' I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it was brilliant!" Kingsley sat and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a quick hug. "Won it with a three letter word! Thanks, 'sex.' You're the real winner, tonight."

Across from them, Andromeda was pouting and glowering and looking generally miserable.

"I'm glad you're so excited about 'sex,' Kingsley, because tonight _you_ won't be getting any!"

This earned a loud bark of laughter from him and a snicker from Dorcas. Kingsley hopped from his chair and began a sort of cha-cha around the table, chanting "We win and you lose!" which Andromeda, her mouth set in straight line, tried to ignore. This made him laugh harder.

"And _you_ called _me_ a sore loser!"

"It was a fluke. Beginner's luck!" She stood and started cleaning up the board. "But I _am_ proud of you, Dorcas. You did well. Next time, no teams."

The clock chimed. Kingsley, still dancing around the kitchen like a fool, moonwalked out toward the sitting room. "Going to get the children! Have my ice cream sundae ready for when I return!"

Those were the stakes. Loser had to make winner an ice cream sundae. She'd been looking forward to her ice cream, hot fudge, and cherry, prepared by him. She'd hoped he would make it later, after the children were asleep. She wasn't even planning to eat it, but rather to have him eat it off her. Not that shed tell him this. Or maybe she _should_ tell him this. Wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"I hope you're in the mood for _chopped nuts!"_ she called.

"Can't bring me down, woman! This feels better than winning the last election!" He tossed in the Floo Powder. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

"Arrogant arse." Andromeda closed the box. Dorcas went to the fridge. "What are you doing?"

"I'll help make the sundae."

"Nonsense, you won. Sit down. I'll do it." Andromeda waved her wand to send the game back to its spot in the sitting room cabinet. "He's right. I _am_ a sore loser. But I have reason to be. I'm not used to losing like he is!"

Dorcas giggled.

Even though she reckoned they'd probably had enough sugar at the party, Andromeda also made small sundaes for the children in addition to the ones she prepared for herself, Kingsley, and Dorcas. The trio arrived just as she was putting a cherry on top of each.

"Perfect timing!"

The children made a mess of their ice cream while chattering on about Freddy Weasley's new pet Pygmy Puff and the game Orlando and Ophelia Granger brought with them and how cute baby James Sirius looked when he was sleeping and how funny little Lucy and Dominique Weasley were trying to run around with the big kids despite barely being able to walk.

"Then Victoire played the piano and Teddy looooooooved her," said Hope, slurping chocolate ice cream off her spoon, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was dripping down the front of her dress.

"Victoire?" asked Andromeda.

"That's Bill and Fleur's oldest," said Kingsley. "She's three."

"And a half," corrected Teddy. His face and hair went bubblegum pink. "I do _not_ love her."

"He faaaaancies her!" teased Hope. "He says she's sweeeeeet."

"I said she did a good job on her piano song, that's it and you're stupid!" He threw a cherry at his cousin, which Kingsley intercepted. Hope giggled uncontrollably. Kingsley offered further explanation.

"Harry made a comment – just a joke! – about Teddy fancying Victoire because he followed her around a bit tonight and complimented her piano playing, but our boy's a bit sensitive about it. That said, we all know he's too young to fancy anyone and Harry was being silly, that's all."

Hope kept right on giggling.

"Harry said Teddy's gonna MARRY Victoire and then he'll be a WEASLEY too!" She could barely keep her head up for laughing so hard. "TED-DY FAN-CIES VIC-TOIRE, TED-DY FAN-CIES VIC-TOIRE!"

Teddy's hair went from pink to crimson.

"I DO NOT! It's not funny! Nana, make her stop!"

"It alright to fancy a little girl, Teddy," she started, but he clearly did not agree.

"I DO NOT FANCY VICTOIRE WEASLEY, SHE IS A STUPID GIRL AND I HATE HER AND I HATE HOPE AND I HATE ALL GIRLS EVERYWHERE FOREVER!"

"Teddy, love, calm down." Andromeda smiled placatingly. "Methinks he doth protest too much."

"She's a nice girl, Teddy," said Kingsley. "She can be your friend."

Hope snickered. "Or your _GIRLFRIEND_."

 _"_ _That is it!"_ he shouted, pushing his chair away from the table. "My feelings Healer is gonna hear about this!" Then he stormed up the stairs, stomping on each one.

"I know I should scold her and comfort him," said Andromeda, grinning at Kingsley. "But does anyone else think threatening to discuss it with his 'feelings Healer' is the most adorable thing they've ever heard?"

Last that night, after the children were calm and clean and comfortably tucked into bed, Dorcas included, Andromeda climbed on top of Kingsley, reached for the bottom of his sleep shirt, and pulled it off over his head.

"What's this?"

"I changed my mind about you not getting any sex tonight." She kissed him. "Happy Halloween."

"Is this my reward for besting you in Scrabble at last?"

"We both know Dorcas won that game for you, love." She straddled him, then pulled off her t-shirt.

"I know you're upset about the weight gain…" His left hand cupped her right breast, drawing it toward his face. "But I think you look healthier." He flicked his tongue against the hardening pebble in the center of her areola. "And beautiful." His lips captured her nipple and he began to suck.

She tipped her head back and moaned.

"Fuck, I love that."

"I know." His mouth moved to the other breast. She scratched lightly at the back of his neck and rocked her hips, grinding against his building erection.

It wasn't long before both were completely divested of their remaining clothing, Kingsley had cast a Muffliato on the room, and Andromeda was riding him.

"Baby, yes, like that…" He groaned as she quickened her pace. He was flat on his back with her on top, her knees to either side of his hips. Her body was rising and falling and then pitching forward to take him at a slightly different angle, and he struggling to keep from coming already.

"Lean back," he directed, desperate to last. "Slow down. Let me see you."

She placed one hand behind her on his upper thigh, centered the other on his chest, and glided smoothly up and down his cock. He reached up to run the pad of his thumb over her nipple, enjoying the way her breasts bounced as she jerked her hips in this position. His other hand dug into her hip, leaving little fingerprint bruises, keeping her at a steady pace. She suddenly threw her head forward, which made her wild mess of tangles and curls fly. They tickled his midsection as she leaned down.

"Do you love me, Minister?"

"Fuck… yes… I love you."

"Tell me I'm a good enough fuck."

"Uhhh…" He groaned again as the hand that had been on her hip moved to between her legs. She was so deliciously wet… he'd already tasted her once tonight, bringing her over the edge with his lips and fingers and tongue, but he felt the overwhelming urge to do so again.

"Tell me."

"You're the best I've had." He massaged her clit with his thumb, then brought his thumb to his mouth. She pushed his hand aside and kissed him, hard.

"Tell me. Tell me what you love about me." She sped up, leaned back again, and slid two fingers between her folds, rubbing in small circles. He held tightly to her waist and stared up at her, his pupils dilated and dark. He had the perfect view.

"Fuck, Andromeda, I can't think-"

"Tell me." Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment and her body jerked, and he knew she was close again. His cock throbbed and pulsated and begged for mercy, but he would not allow himself to finish before he'd taken her over the edge again.

"Stop moving." He held tightly to her hips, stilling her. His cock twitched and he nearly lost it when she clenched her pussy around him. "I love you for your wit, your snark, the way you tease me. The juxtaposition of your devil-may-care attitude and your no-nonsense, serious side. I love the love you have for your daughter and grandson, for me… I love that you're honest… Honest and… and dark… you can be dark."

She was starting to move again, and it was distracting him.

"The... the subtle and overt ways you... _oh, fuck, that's good..._ the ways you manipulate others, myself included. Your cooking…"

"You love it when I cook for you?" She leaned close to him, her lips brushing against his as she talked. "You love that I've quit my job to cook and clean and care for you, to be your domestic woman?"

"My independent woman." He tried to kiss her, but she pulled back just enough. "Yes, I love having you home. I want to pr... _uhhh, yes, like that..._ to provide for you."

Her fingers were still playing between her legs. At this angle, flush together, her knuckles moved in circles against his groin. He put his hands on her arse and urged her to keep going.

"I love how safe you make me feel, Kingsley." This time, she permitted a kiss. "And not because you're the Minister for Magic. You're strong and powerful and protective of what's yours, and I feel no one can hurt me…" Her voice cracked. "No one can hurt me if you're here."

"No one is going to hurt you." He entangled one hand in the back of her hair as the other wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her into a deep kiss. Upon parting, she pulled at his shoulders, flipping them so she was on her back.

He brought one of her legs up, bent, so her knee was against his shoulder, and thrust into her hard and fast and unrelenting. She continued to touch herself, so he brought his free hand to her breast, massaging it, pulling at her nipple, running the moistened pad of his thumb over the areola.

"I won't... let... anyone... hurt you," he reiterated, panting between words. He could feel beads of sweat forming at his temples. "I love you."

She cried out as her second orgasm hit, her body spasming as her left hand gripped his shoulder, and in response he grabbed her right hand from between her legs, brought it to his mouth, sucked clean her first two fingers. A half-dozen thrusts more and he was spilling himself into her trembling body as she whispered his name over and over.

"Fuck." He collapsed on top of her. Both struggled to regain control of their breathing as they simply held each other, eyes closed. She could hear a heart beating… was it his, or her own? He pressed his lips to her shoulder and her neck and her jaw and her cheek and finally her lips, murmuring declarations of love between each kiss, as she clung to him.

They slept naked, spooning, her safe with his arms around her, him content to have her close.

When they woke in the morning, they made love again, still in the spooned position. He touched her intimately and sucked on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, and she parted her legs and guided his hand and told him all she loved about him. Then they kissed and held each other and waited until they heard conversation coming from Teddy's room, indicating the children were awake.

"Let's give Dorcas money and send her with the children to that little pub down the way," said Kingsley. "The one they can walk to, where they do weekend breakfasts."

"Then we can shower," said Andromeda. "Alone, with hot water." She reached for her t-shirt and pajama bottoms. "That's a good idea."

Teddy and Hope were excited to be going out, and Dorcas promised she would keep a close watch over them. Andromeda carefully explained Muggle money, while Kingsley made sure they had plenty of it just in case.

By the time Andromeda joined her sister and Jean for brunch at their usual spot, she was feeling better than she had in a long time. Well-rested, sated, loved and secure.

But her sister's expression brought instant unease.

"What is it?" She sat beside Jean, across from Narcissa, placing her handbag on the empty fourth chair. "Why do you look as though Bella is back from the grave?"

Narcissa reached into her own handbag and pulled out the newspaper.

"Oh, Meda. I take it you haven't seen the Prophet?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

Coming up, Thorfinn Rowle's new trial begins and the press covers it heavily, so I wanted a happy and light chapter before that happens. Hope you enjoyed :) Regarding Teddy, we know that he and Victoire end up snogging on the Hogwarts Express about twelve years after this fic takes place, so I thought it would be fun to introduce them now. Quick anecdote, when my goddaughter was in kindergarten, she came home crying one day because the boy she liked announced at recess that he would NEVER marry her. That inspired the scene just a bit.

Thanks times a thousand to everyone reading this, and in particular to my Chapter 29 reviewers: **FrancineHibiscus, PopularCats, Banglabou, Clarasnotlikely, Emrldapplejuice, somethingnew2016, Kat, AstoriaRedfern, sassanech, kalilje,** and **lilikaco!**

 **-AL**


	31. Part Three: Week 5

**CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK FIVE**

"You truly think this will work?" Andromeda asked Hermione while tapping her short fingernails on the kitchen table. Hermione nodded.

"It worked when the Prophet was posting nothing but lies about Harry."

"But the Quibbler is…" She glanced anxiously at the doorway, as if afraid Luna Lovegood would suddenly appear even though she wasn't due for another ten minutes. "You know what it is."

"It was the same, then. Worse, really!" Hermione sipped the chamomile tea Andromeda had placed in front of her and reached for a homemade salted caramel macaron. "I can't believe you made these. They taste incredible!"

"Thank you." Andromeda glanced again toward the door. "When will she arrive?"

"A few more minutes." Hermione was much more at ease than the elder witch, which made perfect sense. Her family wasn't the one under attack in the press. "I did this before, remember? For Harry. And it worked. People will believe what they read, especially when they don't have anything to read that counters it. The Prophet prints what will sell, and they print was suits their agendas. The current editor-in-chief is on the election committee for Matthias McComber, which is a massive conflict of interest, but of course reporters going to try to cast doubt on whether Kingsley should continue being our Minister when their boss wants his friend to have that job. We need to give them another voice, another viewpoint. You're not having second thoughts, are you?"

"Second thoughts, third thoughts, fourth…" Andromeda drummed her short nails on the table. "I don't want to open Teddy and Dorcas up to worse attacks."

"Why don't we let Luna, her father, and Astoria come. You'll give the interview, Astoria will take the photographs, and before it goes to print, we'll ask if you can look it over. If you and Kingsley want to pull it then, it can be pulled. If you want to run it…"

"We want to run it." Kingsley entered, Hope half-asleep in his arms. "She's still not feeling well. Do we have any of that fever reducing potion Severus sent?"

"In my bedside table drawer, but it's jinxed closed so the children won't get into it. The password is my daughter's middle name. You remember…?"

"Yes." He reached for a macaron. Andromeda slapped his hand.

"Those are for the guests. You and the children can have what's left after they leave."

"I'm the bloody Minister for Magic but a Second-Class citizen in my own home." He said this with a teasing glint in his eye, but Hermione, missing it, immediately handed him the second macaron on her plate. With a chuckle, he hoisted Hope up a little and headed for the stairs.

"We would have kept her with us, but Mum doesn't want Ophelia getting sick again. She's such a fragile little girl."

"Don't worry, we don't mind the extra child. It's the least I can do for my sister after all she's done for me, and if this two week 'marriage retreat' is what she and Severus need, it's worth a few sleepless nights and dealing with a feverish toddler."

On the morning of brunch last week, Narcissa had been looking forward to discussing with Jean and Andromeda a therapy retreat she had just signed herself and Severus up for. They were going all the way to the United States, where neither of them had been before, for a fortnight to "reconnect, rekindle, and resume interest" in themselves "as both individuals and a couple." It was hosted by the Salem Witches Institute, and combined Muggle psychology with magical methods of Healing. They were to leave the following morning, much to Severus' surprise. (Hermione had agreed to take charge of the apothecary while Draco helped with Hope. They'd initially left only the dog, Duchess, with Andromeda and Kingsley.)

Brunch.

Andromeda sighed.

It was to have been a good time, a time to relax with her two closest friends (well… _only_ friends) while bitching about men and children and all the usual things.

But it had gone to hell from go.

"Oh, Meda," Narcissa had said. "I take it you haven't seen the Prophet?"

Andromeda had laughed. Actually laughed!

"I don't give a flying flobberworm what that rag has to say about me. I'm through with being hurt by petty attacks on my character, as if it's any of their business who I fucked when I was sixteen or whether I ever traded sex for drugs. Thanks to six months of intense therapy and a new lease on life, nothing they print about me could possibly hurt me. Not anymore."

"It's not about you," said Jean softly, unable to meet her eye. She took the paper from Narcissa's slightly shaking hand and held it across the table.

"Not about me? Then why should I…"

The headline hit her like the Hogwarts Express.

MINISTER FOR MAGIC MOVES TEEN WHORE INTO HIS HOME

And the picture –

Taken the day Andromeda had sent Dorcas to the market for eggs, then sent Kingsley to give her the pocket money she'd forgotten on the table, the photograph featured Dorcas running up to the front door to take Muggle money from Kingsley's outstretched hand.

"But…" Andromeda felt her face go hot; she might actually be on fire. "She… He… It's nothing!"

"Read the article." Narcissa looked upon her sister with deep concern. "They're vicious."

 _Dorcas Kensington, age 18, longtime prostitute and rumored Laudanum addict, has upgraded from a shared bedroom in the brothel above the Knockturn Alley betting parlor to the modest Muggle home Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt is reportedly sharing with girlfriend Andromeda Tonks, herself a former drug user and the younger sister of infamous murderer Bellatrix Lestrange._

"Awfully long first sentence," said Andromeda critically. "Don't they have editors?"

She continued on.

Just who is Dorcas Kensington?

 _The daughter of a possible Squib, Dorcas Rose Kensington made headlines at mere hours old. On 12 February, 1985 her mother, Mary-Alice Kensington, bore her right in the betting parlor she'd later live above._

"That can't be right." Andromeda squinted at the page, as if looking closer might make the words make more sense. "She was born in August 1983, not February 1985."

"They were thorough." Narcissa reached for her pumpkin juice but did not take a sip. "Does Dorcas have a copy of her birth certificate? I only ask because… read on."

 _The French Minister for Magic at the time was Guy Rose, a Parisian Healer who left medicine for politics and had a sterling reputation, until he helped to deliver the girl, thus outing himself as a close gambler. The situation was a blow to his career, but in part to lessen the negative impact on his reelection campaign, Rose expressed sympathy for the mother and took pity on the child, and agreed to finance the girl's first year, including all nappies, formula, and other baby-related necessities. The Perisian Prophet did two follow-up reports on the child, at age six months and one year, but by 1987 the Minister had been re-elected and interest in the girl died._

 _From age one to age twelve, not much has been documented about Dorcas Kensington or her mother, Mary-Alice, save for one instance in December 1990, when Aurors found the six-year-old wandering around Diagon Alley after midnight, freezing, starving, and filthy. She was returned to her mother who claimed she thought the girl was asleep, and no charges were filed._

 _At age twelve, Kensington was again picked up and questioned by Aurors, who suspected she was attempting to solicit men for sex. Rather than arrest her, she was again returned to her mother, who'd said the girl had run away. Dorcas Kensington was questioned by Aurors at least twice more before briefly attending Hogwarts from January-May 1998, but still not arrested._

"Fucking arrested!" Andromeda slammed down the newspaper. Her shout had attracted stares from other brunch patrons, but she was too furious to care. "They pick up a twelve-year-old girl they believe is trying to 'solicit sex' from grown men, and as a _favor_ , instead of _arresting_ her, they return her to the woman turning her out in the first place! Arrested, as if she _should have been_ , as if she was committing a _crime_ , as if she wasn't a bloody _child_!"

"Lower your voice, Andromeda, or this outburst will make tomorrow's front page," hissed Narcissa. Andromeda forced herself to take several deep breaths before continuing the article, knowing her sister was right (as much as she hated it).

 _According to a source at the brothel, upon the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Kensington chose to return to the brothel rather than to school-_

"Chose!" Andromeda's eyes filled with furious tears. "As if she wouldn't have chosen to be in school had it been a choice! And if Aurors knew what was happening, why didn't they _do_ something?"

 _According to a source at the brothel, upon the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Kensington chose to return to the brothel rather than to school, where she continued selling herself and developed an addiction to Laudanum. It is believed she met Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt through his girlfriend, Andromeda Tonks, when the two were both patients at a secure treatment facility run by St. Mungo's staff. When asked for confirmation or comment, Head Emotional Healer and Addictions Specialist Adelaide Smelthwyck advised our reporter to "kindly sod off."_

Andromeda felt the tiniest twitch of a smile tugging at her lips. If nothing else and no one else, she knew she could count on her favorite Healer.

 _The Minister for Magic has complete access to the Minister's Quarters in London, but it is not uncommon for Ministers to also maintain a separate home for their families, one to which they do not invite dignitaries or other formal guests. It is therefore not unheard of for a Minister to reside outside of the official residence, though in this case it is only recently that Shacklebolt has moved in with his girlfriend and her grandson, age five. The boy's mother, Nymphadora Tonks, was killed during the Final Battle at Hogwarts. It is unknown why Andromeda Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt have asked a teenage girl with a sordid past to move into their home, but rumors abound, especially as it is also rumored that Minister Shacklebolt, 43, may have a child on the way with former assistant Hestia Jones. Is his fifty-year-old therapy-seeking girlfriend not enough for him? Or, even more bizarre, is he not enough for her?_

 _Daisy, age 21, a fellow brothel denizen, went on record to our reporter, saying, "I don't know why they gave Dorcas a room, but I think she's lucky to get out of here!"_

 _Lucky, indeed._

"I have to go home. What if she's seen this? She'll be devastated! Do you realize what they're implying at the end? Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck." Andromeda took off her glasses, placed them on the table, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "This is heinous. It's a new level of low."

"Stay." Narcissa grabbed Andromeda's wrist. "Stay, we'll talk. I'm sure Dorcas hasn't seen it yet. You said she's not much of a reader, right? So what are the odds she-"

"Reading the front page of the newspaper every morning is one of the homework assignments I've given her. Unless Kingsley saw it first and hid it, I'm certain she's seen it."

Andromeda hurried home, wishing it were possible to Floo from the bunch place rather than having to apparate to and from safe points. Now that Kingsley was living with her, they had anti-apparition charms on the home, to avoid unwanted guests, thus she had to walk the last six minutes to her front door. She charged in, but Kingsley caught her before she entered the sitting room, where she could see Dorcas sitting on the floor near the fireplace.

"I saw it, she saw it," he said softly. "She cried, she was very upset, but Teddy is taking care of things."

"Teddy is… what?"

With a finger to his lips to keep Andromeda quiet, he led her into the sitting room. Neither Teddy nor Dorcas noticed. They were holding Therapy Cats in front of the dollhouse that had been Nymphadora's, and Teddy was speaking in the same kind, calm cadence Healer Bonham used during his sessions.

"Now, Dorcas cat, how do you _feel_ about losing your real Mummy Cat? Do you miss her?"

"No," answered Dorcas, moving the Dorcas Cat so it was like it was the one talking. "My real Mummy Cat was not very nice. But sometimes I miss the idea of a Mummy Cat. I miss… I wish I had a Mummy Cat like yours when I was five."

"My Mummy Cat is really Nana Cat," he whispered, holding his hand over Teddy Cat's pointed ears as if to save the kitten the pain of that secret. He brought his voice back up to normal and added, "Would you like to tell Healer Teddy Cat what you cannot tell your Mummy Cat, Dorcas Cat? Sometimes talking to our Therapy Cats helps us to work out our own feelings, which helps us feel better. You can say what you want. This is a safe space."

Andromeda brought her hand up to her lips. Her eyes went watery for the second time this morning, but for an entirely different reason.

Kingsley wrapped his arms around Andromeda from behind and murmured into her ear. "When he saw she was crying, Teddy pulled Dorcas in here for a Cat Therapy session. I was going to try to talk to her about it, but he's doing so well… He doesn't know what was in the article, I think he's just asking her the same questions Bonham asks him, but she's much calmer now."

For the next half-hour, she and Kingsley simply stood there, her wrapped in his arms, him leaning back against the wall, as they watched Teddy lead Dorcas in a very therapeutic conversation with cats.

In the days since, Kingsley's research through Ministry records had confirmed what the Prophet discovered – that the girl was indeed a year and a half younger than she'd been told, making her only eighteen now – and he even tracked down her mother… or, more accurately, the public cemetery plot in which her mother was buried.

"Suicide," he'd explained to Andromeda that night as they climbed into bed. They'd agreed only to tell the girl she'd passed, at least for now, unless she asked for specifics.

They'd also had a long discussion and determined that they would have to make some changes to the home if Dorcas' stay was to be more permanent than originally intended. Kingsley, being better at such magic than Andromeda, took the lead on redoing the upstairs layout, completely separating Teddy's room from hers and giving her a door to the hall and a window, which, like Teddy's, faced Hope's room in the Snapes' house next door.

Over dinner that night, they discussed the near future.

"You'll be here through Christmas, then at Hogwarts. You will return home for the months of July and August, like the other students, but stay longer in June than they do – an extra week – to sit your exams with Madam Pomfrey, Professor Sprout, and the new Potions professor.

"Cartwright," said Kingsley. "Gretchen Cartwright is the new Potions professor."

"You'll also come home over the Easter holiday," said Andromeda. "Unless you don't want to."

"I want to!"

"Alright. You'll take the Hogwarts Express each time. All of the students and a limited number of staff do so every year. I believe Hermione has asked a friend of hers to sit with you on the train on the way there after Christmas break, Neville Longbottom. Have you met him?"

Dorcas' face went pink. She ducked her head, and stared intently at her new green trainers.

"Hermione introduced us last week. He came by after book club to bring her a Mandrake for Severus. He… stayed awhile… and… He… She said… But I… and now… I don't know."

"What is it?"

Dorcas spoke her next sentence as if she had to get all the words out in one breath or die trying.

 _"She-said-he-wants-to-see-me-again-and-maybe-have-dinner-but-now-I'm-sure-he-saw-the-Prophet-and-hates-me-now-but-I-can't-see-him-anyway-he's-a-war-hero-and-I'm…"_

"And you're…?" prodded Andromeda

"Me."

"He's too old for her,' said Kingsley gruffly, looking much less happy about this than Andromeda. He set down his pumpkin juice and tried to look… Minister-like. Foreboding. In charge.

This had no effect on Andromeda.

"Oh, no, he's a nice boy! I was friends with Alice a long time ago – Alice is his mother – and I know his grandmother well, and I knew him through the anti-executions protests. He's sweet, Dorcas. Brave, kind, a genuinely good person. He won't hold that rubbish article against you. You should have dinner with him! Get to know each other before you're both back at Hogwarts. He'll be working as Pomona Sprout's apprentice. He could tutor you in Herbology, if you need it."

"Herbology is the study of magical and mundane plants and fungi," recited Hope, looking quite smug.

" _Swotology_ is the study of know-it-all cousins," quipped Teddy mockingly. Andromeda quickly reprimanded him, but Kingsley could tell she was hiding a smile behind her napkin while doing so.

"Did your father teach you about Herbology?" asked Kingsley. Hope nodded.

"Daddy teaches me _everything_ about magic because I am his lovely little genius girl."

"Merlin's fucking beard," muttered Andromeda. "She's almost as insufferable as her parents."

"What's instuff-a-blll?" asked Hope, whose 'butter chicken' was slathered only with actual melted butter.

"I said _insatiable_ , dear. Your thirst of knowledge is _insatiable_. It means you love to learn. Now eat your peas."

Hope obeyed, Teddy munched a big bite of butter chicken, and Dorcas sipped her juice, seemingly just happy the conversation had switched off her. The relief was short-lived.

"Longbottom could come _here_ for dinner," said Kingsley. "If Andromeda is dead set on making you friends."

"Or more than friends…" said Andromeda. Kingsley looked aghast.

"What is wrong with you, woman? He's twenty-five! She's eighteen! She doesn't need twenty-five-year-old 'more than friends' at eighteen."

Andromeda cracked up at this, and even Dorcas broke a small smile.

"Please! He's not twenty-five. He's the same age as Draco, twenty-three. And until a few days ago, we thought Dorcas was twenty."

"We thought wrong. Five years is too great an age difference."

"I am a full _seven_ years older than you are, Kingsley, remember?"

"Very well." He stabbed at a chunk of butter chicken. "When she's forty-three, like me, she can date any old man she wants."

"Are you calling me old?"

"You called yourself old."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, be reasonable!" Andromeda smacked his arm playfully. "The girl was living more or less on her own for her entire adolescence! And now-"

"And now she lives under our roof and should therefore abide by our rules."

"That's not _our_ rule, though, love." Andromeda leaned across the table to kiss his cheek. "And besides, whether she's eighteen or twenty, she's of age. Let her live. If she stays in all the time, she'll end up like my Nymphadora, lovesick and married to the first man to take her to be-" Andromeda abruptly cut herself off.

"Take her where?" asked Teddy innocently. "Where did my dad take my mum?"

"Breakfast," Andromeda said quickly. "She married your father after he took her to breakfast."

"Oh." Teddy frowned. "Did Mummy like breakfast?"

(Kingsley snorted.)

"Breakfast was fine." Andromeda shot her boyfriend a withering glare. "But it's nice for a girl to… to have breakfast with more than one friend before… before settling down with the person she'll be having breakfast beside for the next thirty years."

Dorcas looked horrified.

"I don't want to have _breakfast_ with him! Only dinner!"

"Why not have both?" asked Andromeda. Kingsley shook his head.

"Don't let her pressure you, Dorcas. If you aren't interested in Neville Longbottom, there is no reason to-"

"He won't like me anyway," mumbled Dorcas. "He won't want _me_ for a girlfriend."

"You can be _my_ girlfriend," said Teddy helpfully. "Kingsley, can girlfriends clean your room?"

"Certainly can, Teddy." He smirked at Andromeda. "All the best girlfriends do."

"Don't teach him things," scolded Andromeda, pointing her fork prongs in his direction. "Teddy, clean your own room. Girls do not exist to do your chores for you, an important lesson Kingsley will be helping you learn tonight while the two of you wash the dishes together. Dorcas, if you'd like to have dinner with Neville, you may do so. In fact, I encourage you to do so. There is nothing wrong with you, he would be lucky to take you out, and I want you to stop undervaluing yourself. You are a good person and Neville is a good person and if nothing else, won't it be nice to already have a friend when you get to Hogwarts?"

"Diiiishes, Nana?" whined Teddy. Kingsley mimicked him.

"Diiiishes, Meda?"

"Yes, dishes. Kingsley will wash them and you can dry."

Dorcas giggled. Hope giggled. Kingsley smiled and ruffled pouting Teddy's hair.

"It'll be fine, Teddy. Decent men do dishes. Shouldn't we be decent men?"

"No." Teddy crossed his arms over his chest. "And you're _not_ my girlfriend no more, Dorcas."

"I can be your girlfriend!" offered Hope.

"I will rather get torched by a dragon," replied Teddy.

"Eat your chicken, children," said Andromeda. "It's getting cold. Dorcas, we'll continue this discussion later."

Now it was Saturday, and Luna would be arriving with Astoria Greengrass in tow any minute.

"I think a family photograph on the couch would be nice," said Hermione, leading Andromeda from the kitchen to the sitting room. "The four of you, the cat, maybe even the dog."

Hearing 'the dog,' Duchess tore into the room, tongue and tail wagging. She barked twice, sat at Hermione's feet, and lifted one paw. Hermione 'shook' it.

"Good girl!"

"She doesn't want praise, she wants a dog biscuit." Andromeda gestured toward the box on the mantle. "We have to keep them up high because the children were overfeeding her. She vomited all over my bedroom floor yesterday. Then the cat stepped in it and tracked nasty footprints across my bed. I don't live in a house; it's a bloody zoo."

"Nana?" Teddy entered the room, carrying Meow-Meow. "When Duchess goes home, can I have a puppy? Meow-Meow is lonely for a puppy."

"Teddy, you may get a puppy when you grow up and move out of my house."

Teddy was set to whine about this (he had his whining face and stance all queued up before he asked the question) but the fireplace roared to life and out stepped Luna Lovegood, followed a moment later by Astoria Greengrass.

"Good morning," said Luna dreamily.

"It's three in the afternoon," said Andromeda.

"Of course," said Luna, as if this was obvious.

Astoria said hello and began setting up her camera equipment, which included a light on a stand and a tripod.

"I've been studying both Muggle and magical photography for two years now. I want to open a studio in Hogsmeade someday. I've been working for the Prophet, but I'm not on permanent staff, so I'm hopeful they won't fire me when they see these, but it could happen." She looked a little worried. "I don't like what they'd been at lately, though, I really don't, so if I do get let go I suppose it's no great loss."

"We appreciate this, Astoria." Hermione hugged her. "Your work is beautiful, and if there's anything I can do to help get your business off the ground…"

"Thanks."

"Should we get started?" asked Luna. She sat down in Healer Smelthwick's usual chair and pulled a quill and inkwell from her shoulder bag. "Photographs first, or the interviews?"

"Let's do a couple of staged shots first, then I'll take candids while you're speaking. Do you have a game or activity as suggested?" Astoria had forwarded them in advance a list of demands and exceptions for their session, including what they should wear (nothing with printed words, no plain white or all black, even though the pictures would be in grayscale) and what they should be doing in each shot.

"We play Scrabble sometimes as a family." Andromeda waved her wand and the board set itself up on the coffee table. "We played just last night with Dorcas, Teddy, and Hope. I thought that might work."

"Perfect!"

While Astoria readied her lighting equipment, Andromeda fetched Kingsley from upstairs. He was half-asleep in the rocking chair in Teddy's room, still holding sick Hope.

"I tried to put her to bed but she wakes and cries. She had the fever reducer. It seems to be coming down."

Andromeda pressed her lips to the girl's forehead, the surest way to check for a fever without using a temperature charm. "Take her downstairs with us."

Astoria settled them strategically around the coffee table on the floor. Hope slept in Kingsley's arms, her cheek to his chest, facing away from the camera. Teddy and Dorcas sat between Kingsley and Andromeda, and the dog plopped herself prominently beside Andromeda, head to one side, tongue lolling out, clearly ready for her close-up. Even the cat seemed in the mood to comply… until Astoria started clicking the camera, when Meow-Meow decided to leap onto the board and swipe at the tiles, knocking several to the floor.

"Bloody awful furball!" snapped Andromeda, trying to swat him off. The cat hissed and swished its tail, ignoring her demands to get down.

"No, let him do it, this is gold!" Astoria continued clicking, and even Andromeda had to laugh when the damn feline flopped onto one side, then stretched the length of the board, as if showing off his fluffy belly for the camera. Teddy leaned forward and kissed the cat, and Astoria awwwed.

After this, they took a posed shot on the couch, the game pieces banished back to their box. In this, Kingsley held a photograph of his baby son, and Teddy, seated between Kingsley and his grandmother, held one of Nymphadora at age five. Dorcas cradled Hope in her arms out of frame for this one, though at Andromeda's request the took a second one with them in it, which she said she'd like to put up on the wall later.

Luna asked Teddy a few simple questions for the article before Hermione, holding Hope, took him upstairs to play so that more intimate conversation could take place. Dorcas stayed downstairs for her own interview, but soon joined the others upstairs, Duchess on her heels.

Meanwhile, in the sitting room…

"Yes, I am an addict," said Andromeda, playing with the fringe on her favorite throw pillow. "I don't deny it. I have been an alcoholic for most of my adult life, though I've been sober since late April – over six months now – and I did use illegal drugs for several months, too. I was seeing Kingsley at the time, but I tried to keep my problem from him. In part because I was afraid if he knew about it, it would be real. I didn't want it to be real. I don't think the greater wizarding world should look upon him unfavorably for what I've done – on the contrary, they should look upon him with respect for all he's done. He saved me. He insisted the Healers at St. Mungo's treat me as they would any other patient. He forced me into a rehabilitation facility. He helped my sister and brother-in-law care for my grandson while I spent twelve weeks away. And he's taken care of me since."

"We take care of each other," corrected Kingsley.

"Addicts aren't treated like other sick people, but we _are_. We don't choose to be… to be addicted. I had a traumatic childhood and a difficult adult life, and then, in the span of a few short months, I lost my husband and my only child and was left alone to raise a newborn. Not only was my daughter dead, but she'd been murdered by my own sister, a person to whom I'd once been very close, and a woman I still see every time I look in the mirror." Her voice cracked, but she refused to cry. Getting this out was too important.

"I put grieving on hold for years so I could focus on taking care of Teddy, but suppressing my survivor's guilt and refusing to deal with their deaths caught up with me, and I fell apart. Of course I regret it, but I also regret how society treats people like me, people who are _hurting_ , people who turn to alcohol or drugs because we don't know how else to deal with the intense, awful, suffocating pain. We do it to escape, or to feel numb, or to feel anything. I did it to forget, to stop hating myself long enough to get through the night and face another day. No one start drinking or starts using with the intention of becoming so dependent on their substance of choice that they cannot function without it. No one _wants_ to be an addict."

Luna had charmed the quill to take down Andromeda's words exactly, so she sat holding the parchment, her head cocked slightly to one side, listening intently, as Andromeda's voice grew in volume and passion, reminiscent of the day she spoke out against the accusations at the Ministry.

"And I don't think it's fair or just or appropriate for the Daily Prophet to lambast the Minister for loving me even when I was at my worst, nor do I think it's right for them to tear him apart for taking in a troubled teenager, a girl who grew up being _abused_ by her only parent, being _used_ by strangers without her consent, one forced to mature far too soon, one tricked into believing she was a Squib with no other options, one told she wasn't worth anything and wouldn't amount to anything, which simply isn't true. Kingsley loves her like a father, just I love her the way I do my daughter and grandson, and for that reported to have suggested there was anything untoward going on is nothing short of sadistic – hurting an already fragile child to sell papers – because they don't agree with the Minister's politics and want to write me off as a criminal and deviant because it suits their narrative. The truth of the matter is, we are _trying_ to give her the family she deserves but never had, just as we're trying to give Teddy a good home life despite all my Death Eater sister and Antonin Dolohov stole from him. Why is the Prophet tearing Kingsley apart for that? If anything, he should be _praised_ for it. If we love people only when society deems them worthy of love, do we really know love at all?"

"Wow," breathed Astoria, peeking out from behind her camera lens. "That was lovely. You should be a writer."

"I'm going to use this in its entirety," said Luna.

Kingsley leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around Andromeda, putting his lips close to her ear. "I've never loved you more than I do in this moment."

"Stop that," she said, shrugging him away and going slightly pink. "I only said what I think is true. It's your turn now, Kingsley. Tell them about your son and the McKinnon murder."

Luna glanced at the photograph of young Kingsley holding the baby, which was back on the mantle. "Daddy said we'll put your article on the front page of the next Quibbler, same as we did for Harry's during the war. He's moving a Flubbering Whizbumper sighting back to page six."

When the interview was over (and most of the macarons were gone) Andromeda called up to Hermione to let them know. While she went into the kitchen to start dinner, Kingsley poured food into Duchess' bowl.

"Are we ready for the world to know our life stories?"

"We had better be," said Andromeda. "That issue comes out on Monday."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you time a trillion to those who reviewed Chapter 30! **Harry Hobbit, emrldapplejuice, Popular Cats, Lilikaco, Kat, sassanech, Francesca, somethingnew2016, kalilje,** and **clarasnotlikely.** And thanks to all who are reading!

 **-AL**


	32. Part Three: Week 6

**CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK SIX**

 **SATURDAY AFTERNOON**

Andromeda, Narcissa, Hermione, and Jean sat around the kitchen table at the Tonks' house, sipping tea and picking at scones, each with a large pile of mail in front of her.

"Another hate letter," said Hermione, setting it aside. "Too bad."

"Not another Howler, though," said Andromeda with a shrug. "They can't hate me all that deeply, then."

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't understand how you can be blasé about this, Andromeda. That one…" She tapped an envelope on the center of the table, set aside to be shown to Kingsley later. "Includes a literal death threat!"

"Most are supportive, though, aren't they?" asked Jean, who was placing yet another in the "Good" pile. "That one was from a recovering alcoholic who said she clipped out your story and owled it to her parents, who disowned her for marrying a Muggle. When he passed – young, cancer – she tried to return home with her infant daughter but her parents wouldn't take her back. She turned to drinking and hasn't been able to stop… Now her daughter is an adult and estranged from her as well. She said your article gave her hope that there's life after loss. She wants to get sober and rekindle a relationship with the girl."

"Did she sign it?" asked Narcissa.

Jean nodded. "Glenda Doyle, nee Goyle."

"Glenda Goyle-Doyle?" asked Hermione. "Related to Draco's friend?"

Across from Andromeda, Narcissa's mouth was gaped open with horrified surprise. She reached out and grabbed her sister's wrist.

"Glenda? Meda, you remember her! She was a year behind me at Hogwarts! I had no idea she'd married a Muggle. Her mother told our mother she'd moved to the United States to attend the Salem Witches Institute, contracted something called Small Pox, and died at twenty. Remember?"

"Not dead," said Jean with a shrug. "She left a return address. Stockholm."

"Put that in the pile for me to reply to later," said Andromeda. Jean moved it from Good to Respond.

"This one's all over the place," said Hermione, holding up a long letter written in loopy, slanted cursive. "She thinks you are an eloquent, brave, and strong-willed woman, one deserving of admiration, healing, and good health, but she also thinks having prostituted yourself for elven herb is inexcusable, so while she wishes you and the Minister well, she won't be voting for him in the next election."

"Put her in the Rubbish pile." Andromeda sighed and opened another. Dozens of letters had arrived each day starting the day after the article came out, on Monday. Now it was Saturday afternoon, Narcissa had returned from America the evening before, Thorfinn Rowle's trial was through, and Andromeda was consistently waffling between being glad she'd invited the Quibbler into their home and thoroughly regretting it.

They continued opening, reading, and sorting while sipping tea and picking at the scones for several minutes in silence, until Narcissa spoke up.

"This aside a moment, may I ask you a personal question?"

Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. "Since when have you asked before asking me a personal question? Not so long ago you asked me if you could look upon the Minister naked while he slept. I can't imagine anything more personal."

(Hermione went slightly pink at this. Jean chuckled.)

"It's about sex."

(Hermione went pinker. Jean chuckled again.)

"What about sex?"

"I… I'm experiencing menopause, as you are no doubt aware…" Narcissa shifted in her seat. A hot flash was upon her, which is why she'd brought it up in the first place. She transfigured one of the Rubbish letters into a small paper fan. "Experiencing it more and more by the day."

"And…?"

"And I've heard that a woman's sexual desire falls dramatically during 'the change,' but mine is the opposite. It's out of control. I want it – no, _need_ it – all the time. Poor Severus is exhausted. For the first week while we were at the retreat, we hardly left our room unless we had to. I tried to restrain myself during the second week, but it wasn't easy. He's home today. He said he wanted to spend the day in bed – alone, sleeping – which is why Hope and I are here."

"Aw, I thought you were here because you missed me so bloody much," teased Andromeda dryly.

"No," said Narcissa, missing the sarcasm. "He requested time alone, to rest."

"It's good, though, isn't it?" asked Jean. "You were worried about your marriage, and this retreat, it helped, yes?"

"Very much. I love him. Our marriage isn't perfect, and it isn't what I had with Lucius, but it's solid and happy. We love our daughter, he treats Draco like a son, he's hard-working and honest and intelligent, and I genuinely do desire him."

"Perhaps too much?" asked Andromeda, chuckling. "Is there a 'too much' when it comes to desire? Hermione, you're young. Is there a 'too much' for you and Draco?"

"I… don't know!" As usual, Hermione was not keen to have this conversation with her mother, future-mother-in-law, and future mother-in-law's sister, especially when it came to sex with her boss and former professor.

"Something's happened to me these last two weeks," Narcissa went on. "Not since I was a newlywed have I felt so bloody hypersexual. He calls me insatiable. And exhausting. I'm insatiable and exhausting! We were together twice last night alone, and that was after we'd spent the entire day traveling, and I easily could have gone for a third – or, at the very least, an orally-induced orgasm – but after finishing, he fell asleep. Quite selfishly, I must say, as I'd only been brought to completion once to his twice."

"Someone should check on the children," said Hermione, setting a letter in the Good pile. She hopped up. "I'll do it!"

Jean rolled her eyes. "Go on, then, Hermione. Let us know if they're killing each other."

"Dorcas can handle them!" called Andromeda, but Hermione was already bustling from the kitchen, headed to the backyard where Dorcas, Ophelia, Orlando, Hope, Teddy, and Duchess were enjoying the unseasonably warm afternoon.

"Did menopause do that to either of you?" asked Narcissa, after they heard the door slam shut.

"On the contrary, my sex drive plummeted. Ow!" Jean sucked a paper cut on her thumb, then shook her hand. "What was I – oh, that's right. Mine plummeted, but I was also in the middle of a divorce when the change started, so I went through a period during which I thought I'd never feel any sort of desire for any man ever again. By the time menopause was in full swing, I was starting to date again, and the excitement of that helped, but…" She shrugged. "I enjoy it on occasion, but I'm not twenty anymore. I don't have the energy I used to. That's more my issue. I could have sex, I suppose, but I could also knit, or read, or do yoga, and, frankly, these days, I get better exercise and a lot more pleasure out of yoga. And I don't have to fix yoga breakfast in the morning."

Andromeda laughed. "I remember the first time I made Kingsley breakfast in the morning. _Pain perdue._ I'd soaked bread in milk, egg, and aged Armenian brandy overnight, then baked it in the morning, served with sausages and fresh squeezed orange juice. I was trying to impress him. It worked. I miss that. It's not the same without the alcohol."

"Sounds delicious," said Narcissa dismissively. "But I don't care. During menopause, did your desire increase, decrease, or stay the same?"

"I honestly cannot say." Andromeda shrugged apologetically. "I'd had that partial hysterectomy, so my cycle abruptly ended, though I still have the occasional hot flash. Kingsley likes them. He says I'm more efficient than a warming charm."

"But when you had the his… hister… that…"

"Hysterectomy…"

"That Muggle procedure…" Narcissa shuddered. "Did it stop you wanting sex, or make you want it more, or…"

"I was already thoroughly depressed at that time, so I didn't desire men much before it happened and I didn't desire them any more or less immediately after. And now? Sex is an emotional experience for me as much as it is a physical one. Right now, I want to be with Kingsley in that way. Next week, I may not. I don't know that hormones or estrogen or functioning ovaries have anything to do with it."

"I don't know what estrogen is," said Narcissa, looking a little put out. "But I've heard of hormones. Those are the things that make teenagers mad for each other. And give them acne. Does a hysterectomy remove your hormones? I thought they removed your uterus. Or was it the oval… ovalties? Will mine disappear with menopause?"

"Don't they teach _any_ sort of sexual education courses at Hogwarts?" asked Jean. "No disrespect intended, but you seem to know precious little about the female body and reproductive system, Narcissa. It's shameful. The school ought to ameliorate their curriculum to include the basics about the human body. Don't they teach you anything about how babies are made? Not the act of intercourse, but the actual – how the sperm and egg need to–"

"I know enough," bristled Narcissa, but both she and Andromeda knew Jean was right. "I know enough to know I'm going through 'the change,' which means my cycle will stop and with it, my ability to have more children."

"You're actually in perimenopause," said Jean. "Your cycle has not completely subsided, which means–"

"I don't want to talk about that part!" snapped Narcissa, who never enjoyed being reminded of all the things she didn't already know but probably should, as she was sensitive about it. "I want to know if it's normal to–"

"Yes," interrupted Andromeda. "It's normal to desire your husband, especially as you've just spent two weeks on a marriage retreat together away from your children, and especially as you haven't been married long enough to start hating each other, and even though you are experiencing the hot flashes and other unwelcome effects that come with the onset of menopause. Alright?"

"Thank you," said Narcissa. "As an aside, we were not careful at all over these two weeks, and at least one of us wouldn't be opposed to the idea should that result in a baby brother or sister for Hope."

"This, again!" Andromeda rolled her eyes. "No more babies for you, you're old."

"I'm not ol-"

"Speaking of hormones." Andromeda sliced open another envelope, eager to steer the topic of conversation away from her sister's sex life (she could only listen to the same damn thing so many times before it drove her mad). "Guess who has a date tonight?"

"You?" Narcissa looked annoyed at having been interrupted.

"Not I."

"Dorcas?" asked Jean.

Andromeda nodded, smiling. "Neville Longbottom is taking her out for dinner. They're going to Twilight and Trills in Godric's Hollow. Upscale, but not uncomfortably so. She'll be wearing a new dress. We shopped yesterday. Kingsley paid for it – he gave us a few galleons before leaving for work in the morning – and when he returned from the Ministry we showed it to him and he hated it, which means it's perfect."

Jean laughed. "Why did he hate it?"

"Far too short, according to him. But she looks adorable in it. She has _legs_ under those Victorian skirts. Who knew? They're leaving shortly before eight. Kingsley gave her a curfew of ten and I extended it to eleven, though it's a bit silly to give her a curfew at all. I think she likes it, though. Having rules, knowing when to be home, bing accountable to people who care about her, not those who feel they own her. You know?"

Narcissa and Jean nodded.

"Kingsley wanted me to ask Neville to come early to get her so they can have a chat, man to man, but I said absolutely not. We'll treat her like the young adult she is, which means giving her an appropriate amount of freedom with reasonable restrictions, and _not_ threatening the first young man to ask her to dinner. Kingsley is afraid she'll be easy to take advantage of, that he'll demand too much of her and she'll be afraid to say no, but it's _Neville_. Neville's grandmother raised him too well for us to worry."

"Augusta is a formidable woman," agreed Jean, who'd met her several times back when Hermione and Neville were flatmates after the war. "And Neville is a sweet boy."

"He hasn't made much of himself since the war, unfortunately, studying Herbology, but he's a pureblood," said Narcissa. "Alice was an Avery, they're among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and the Longbottom line goes back centur…" Her voice trailed off as she felt the heat of Andromeda's glare. "Not that blood purity is of any importance, of course."

"Of course," said Andromeda. "And Herbology is a perfectly respectable field. He's already had one apprenticeship with Pomona Sprout and this year he's returned to Hogwarts with the intention of taking over some of her classes, learning what he has left to learn, and replacing her as Herbology professor come next September. Surely you don't look down upon a professor's career, Cissy?"

"What?" Narcissa appeared scandalized by the thought. "No! I'd never. Severus was an excellent professor, I'm told."

Jean snickered. "Who told you that? My Hermione says he was caustic, snarky, and overly strict, bordering on a bully, and that he strongly favored students from his own House."

"Hermione is obviously mistaken," said Narcissa defensively. "Draco assures me he was a perfectly capable, fair, and supportive instructor, as good to his pupils as he is to our daughter! Hermione's memory was addled slightly when my dear sister Bellatrix tortured her, I'm afraid, the poor dear."

"Yes, that must be it," agreed Jean, but she and Andromeda exchanged an amused glance. "I hope Dorcas has a wonderful time."

"She will," said Andromeda, with more confidence than she felt.

"So…" Jean sipped the last of her tea. "Now that Hermione's out of the room, tell me, Andromeda, how are you faring since you gave testimony? According to the Prophet, the Wizengamot was vicious."

"Vicious is an understatement."

"Why 'now that Hermione's out of the room'?" asked Narcissa.

"Hermione, bless her, has a tendency to share with Harry things she probably should not," explained Jean. "She doesn't mean anything by it, but they're friends and she trusts him, therefore Andromeda and I have discussed being a bit less candid about certain matters while she's present."

"Harry had me served with papers on Wednesday afternoon," said Andromeda. "He's seeking custody of Teddy. Hermione is certain he'll come to his senses and drop the suit, but we are less convinced."

"Oh." Narcissa looked pained. "Why now?"

"He sits on the Wizengamot now. As of July, apparently. And he wasn't impressed by my testimony on Tuesday, to say the least. Then, according to Kingsley, when Rowle testified on Wednesday, the man made me look like less than the ideal grandmother."

"He told the Wizengamot she twice had Teddy with her when she met up with Rowle." Jean slathered clotted cream on her scone. "I believe that's what set Harry off. Hermione says he was furious and wishes he'd taken charge of Teddy at that time so he's doing it now, but she thinks he'll come to his senses."

Andromeda's lip curled derisively. "It isn't as though I fucked Rowle with Teddy in the room! I handed him money, he handed me a pouch of… Oh, it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have done it. I was a mess, then. And I had no choice but to admit on the stand that I still think about using, about drinking, that every day is a struggle. Harry wants what's best for Teddy, I know he does, but…" Andromeda bit down hard on her lip. "I'm in a different place, now. I wish Harry would give credit for… that he would…"

She swore under her breath.

"Frankly, I've come too far since my 'commitment' to lose Teddy now. I would have deserved to lose him then, I know it, Harry knows it, the full Wizengamot knows it. But not _now_. I don't drink now. I don't use. I'm good to Kingsley and he is to me. Our home is safe and happy and Teddy is well cared for here." She ran her index finger along the rim of her mug. "But between us, I cannot tell you how badly I wanted to get high after I stepped off that stand on Tuesday. I came home, asked Dorcas to take the children outside, and cried for over an hour. And then when Kingsley finally made it home Wednesday night…"

"What happened Wednesday night?" asked Narcissa and Jean in unison.

"It wasn't pretty," said Andromeda. "But I'll tell you."

 **WEDNESDAY NIGHT**

Kingsley should have been home for dinner by six, but it was quarter past seven and they'd neither seen nor heard from him.

"I'm sure he's tied up at the Ministry. We'll eat," said Andromeda, trying not to let on how nervous she was. She'd testified yesterday and Rowle was set to take the stand today, to defend himself, which, she knew, would include throwing Kingsley under the Knight Bus.

She served Hope and Teddy first, then Dorcas, and finally herself, though she had no appetite. They were having roast beef, one of Kingsley's favorites, with turnips and mashed potatoes. Nothing green on the plate, as she'd gotten sick of fighting with the children to eat their asparagus and Brussel sprouts and peas over the last two weeks.

"I don't want smash potatoes!" whined Hope, pushing her plate away.

"I hate turnips!" whined Teddy, turning his plate so they were the farthest away from him.

"Not tonight, please, children," said Andromeda, who was already developing a headache.

Dorcas quickly sprang into action, adding extra butter to Hope's 'smash' potatoes and a touch of honey to Teddy's turnips.

The children chatted incessantly over dinner and got as much food on their bodies as they did in their mouths. Dorcas offered to give them a bath, for which Andromeda was grateful. By bedtime, Kingsley still hadn't come home.

"He's alright, isn't he?" asked Dorcas, her eyes wide with worry.

Andromeda was considering admitting she didn't know when the living room fireplace whooshed to life and out stepped Kingsley. His gait was slightly uneven, his eyes were glossy, and she could smell cinnamon from across the room; he hadn't taken a full two steps before Andromeda realized where he'd been.

"Really, Kingsley?" she snapped. "The Hog's Head or Rosemerta's?"

"Hog's Head." He grimaced. "Too much. Took a sobering potion. Should feel better soon."

"Were you alone or with others?"

"Andromeda…"

"Alone or with others?"

He shook his head, winced, and pressed his fingertips to his temples.

"Not now. I need a shower. Excuse me."

She stepped aside, letting him pass. He made it all the way up the stairs and to the bathroom door before Teddy came tearing out of his bedroom and threw his arms around Kingsley's legs.

"KINGSLEY! You didn't come home! I thinked maybe you died! I got scared-ed! I thinked you maybe never come back! I missed you!"

"What's this? I saw you this morning, lad." Kingsley ruffled Teddy's hair with one hand, while using the other against the doorjamb to steady himself. "Off to bed, now. It's late."

Teddy, crying now, buried his face into the Minister's robes. "I MISSED YOU TOO MUCH!"

"Teddy." Andromeda pried him off the man's legs. "That's enough. Kingsley is fine. It's time for bed."

"I thinked maybe you'll never come back!"

"Bed." She didn't pause to let Kingsley say goodnight. She swept the child back into his bedroom and tucked him in, but because she couldn't very well leave him crying like that, she agreed to read him and Hope, who was half-asleep in her tiny transfigured toddler bed, one more story. When they were both finally asleep, she let herself into the bathroom with the intention of tearing into Kingsley both for his lateness and for having gotten drunk while she was stuck at home not allowed a single sip of anything, not even wine, but she stopped upon hearing the sound of soft sobs over the running water.

She quietly closed the door and leaned back against it, facing the shower, wondering if she shouldn't interrupt at all, but ultimately curiosity and concern got the best of her. She moved toward the shower, reached in, and knocked on the wall. Water splashed against her wrist, which she promptly withdrew.

"Can't we speak when I'm through?" asked Kingsley, his voice hoarse.

"Can't we speak now?" She opened the curtain just enough to give her room to sit on the edge of the tub, her legs pointed toward the door. She faced up at him. "You're crying."

"No," he said, but the red-rimmed eyes gave him away.

"It was a difficult day?"

"I can't talk about it." He turned his back to her and reached for her coconut shampoo, which he massaged quite unnecessarily into his scalp. He never used shampoo, only soap. Soap that smelled of cedar and citrus, two scents she loved because of him. She knew he had grabbed the bottle without looking at it and suspected he'd already washed off anyway, as she could smell the cedar and citrus permeating the air.

"I made roast beef. Would you like me to warm a plate for you, for when you're done?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Kingsley." She reached in, resting her hand low on his inner thigh, getting her sleeve soaked in the process. "Please look at me."

It took several seconds, but finally, he turned.

"He testified today," said Kingsley. "I had to sit there in front of the entire Wizengamot and listen to him give testimony, in excruciating detail, about all the things he's done to you. He enjoyed it, I think. Humiliating me."

She was tempted to ask how exactly it humiliated _him_ to have had the man tell the world what he did with her, but she bit her tongue.

"And?"

"And he confessed to having gifted you elven herb – that's what he said, that he 'gifted' it to you in exchange for use of your body – and he told them for this, I threatened to kill him when he was arrested, that I had him incarcerated without due process, and that he felt he was unfairly targeted because he'd, as he put it, 'fucked the Minister's whore all year.'"

"I'm not your whore," whispered Andromeda.

"I know you're not my whore," snapped Kingsley. "He knew about the mark on your thigh, about a freckle on your back, about the hysterectomy scar…"

"He knew it was a hyster-"

"No, but he described it, and I knew."

She nodded.

"He gave them details no one asked for. He delighted in it. Some of the others didn't want to hear. Thank Merlin for them. The others would have been content to get all the sordid details. But when he said he came in your mouth while you knelt before him, Elphias Doge told him the Wizengamot did not need such specifics. When he said he fucked you raw while you tried not to cry, Susan Bones asked him to stick to the facts as they pertained to the selling of controlled herbs. When he said you had a surprisingly tight cunt for a woman your age, Griselda Marchbanks ordered him to watch the language. He smirked at me the entire time. He knew full well he'd be going back to prison. He just wanted me to suffer for it first."

Kingsley returned to washing, this time lathering the cedar and citrus soap between his large hands before scrubbing his arms. She continued to sit on the edge of the tub, not minding that she was getting a bit wet, simply watching him. The way he scrubbed harder than necessary reminded her of the first time she came home after being with Rowle. She'd done the same, hopped in the shower and scrubbed at her skin until she felt like it might flake off. She'd felt filthy. She'd hated herself.

After her shower, she'd checked on sleeping Teddy, kissed his little forehead, whispered an apology to her dead daughter, then gone down to the kitchen and put a needle in her arm. She looked down at the crux of her arm now, half-expecting to see a syringe sticking out of it. She shoved up her sleeve. All that was there were faint track marks, a forever reminder.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes?" He twisted his body to look at her.

"Were you with a woman? Tonight?"

"I was at the Hog's Head."

She stared down at the drain, watching the water run down. Once his back was again to her, she looked him over. He had his own share of scars and marks. There was one on the back of his thigh from a severing hex he'd been hit with during the war, and a small burn on his back from the same period, and a faint line on the top of his foot, courtesy of Meow-Meow a few mornings ago, among other little nicks and ill-healed scrapes.

"Were you at the Hog's Head with a woman?"

He sighed. She tried again.

"Kingsley, I–"

"Minerva."

"Excuse me?"

He turned and knelt on the floor of the tub, twisting her body so they were facing each other. The water beat down against his back, but mostly blocked her from getting too wet.

"I went to the Hog's Head alone, intending to remain alone. Minerva was already there. I spent the evening drinking with her. I promise you, nothing happened. She's old enough to be my grandmother, and even if she wasn't, I was looking to drink and to vent, not to shag a woman I don't love. Before I departed, she gave me a dosage of sobering potion she'd brought for herself. Though she'd been having a rough day and had imbibed a bit, she said I needed it more. I'm sorry. I should have sent a Patronus. It was not my intention to panic Teddy."

Andromeda brought a hand up to caress his cheek. "I'm sorry you had to listen to him. I'm sorry for everythi-"

"Don't." He stood and rinsed off the last of the lather. "Could you wait for me in the bedroom? I want to be alone."

Quite unexpectedly, Andromeda burst into tears.

"I… oh, woman." He knelt down again and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She was getting soaked, but didn't care. "Don't cry."

"At fir-first, I thought you were bus-busy with wor-work, and then it got later, and… and I was sure… perhaps Hestia… or som-someone from the Min-Ministry… and who could blame you? I'm… I'm a… a slag… the letters, all week… Howlers… they all know it…"

Still enveloping her in his arms, and even though she was fully dressed, he pulled her right into the tub with him, cradling her against his chest.

"I should have come straight home."

"You should have left me for Hestia. She's having your baby, isn't she? And she wouldn't… wouldn't embarrass you… humil-humiliate you! No one could bl-blame you for being ashamed to be with me!"

"I am not ashamed to be with you!" He kissed her temple. "I didn't feel _ashamed_ when he was speaking, I felt _angry._ Angry with him and with myself. Angry because I didn't intervene. Angry because I ignored the problem for so long. Angry because he was bloody right!"

"Right?"

"He told them I didn't have him arrested because I was worried about what would happen to you. He told them I didn't have him picked up until I was afraid you would die. He told them I threatened to kill him, that I threw him in Azkaban without a trial, rushing to sentencing the way previous ministers did. That's how Sirius Black ended up in prison for thirteen years even though no evidence was given against him. I purported to be better than that, to run a fair and impartial Ministry, to focus on transparency and justice, and then what happened? A vile man threatened my woman and I completely set aside all I believe is right to toss him in a cell, fully intending to let him rot there without due process while doing my best to protect you, even though I knew you were breaking the law as well. Everything he said was true."

"How did you react?"

"In court? I seethed. Silently. While fantasizing about slitting his throat using Sectumsempra. I want to watch him bleed to death."

This surprised her. As strong as he was, and as capable as an Auror, he'd never been a violent man.

"You know I'm yours, Kingsley." She drew him down for a quick kiss. "I only ever did what I did with him because I was in a bad place, I was desperate and broken and I hated myself every moment, but I've never not loved you. Since that afternoon we were first together, I've never _not_ been yours. Not for a moment."

"You _are_ mine," he agreed. His hand snaked up the front of her jumper, under the material, over her bra. _"Mine."_ He kissed her roughly. His mouth still tasted of the Firewhisky he'd been downing all evening, a hot cinnamon taste she eagerly drank from his tongue. "My woman."

"Hurt me, Kingsley," she mumbled against his mouth as he continued to grope her, forgoing gentleness. "Punish me."

He pulled her sopping shirt off over her head and tossed it out of the tub. She pulled him over her. There wasn't enough space for it to be comfortable, and they'd both be sore in the morning, but neither cared in the moment.

"What did he do to you?" Kingsley growled into her dripping curls. He bit down on her shoulder. "What did you let him do?"

"I sucked him off, he fucked me a few times, that's all." She couldn't quite tell if she was still crying or if her cheeks were just wet from the water raining down on them, but it didn't matter. "That's all, Kingsley, I swear. I never even kissed him."

"Good." He kissed her now, harder than the last time, then nipped at her lower lip before pulling away. "I don't want you with other men, Andromeda. I can't stand to think of you with other men. Women, fine. But not men."

"I don't want other men… I want… ohhh… yes… I want… yes, do that!"

He'd started rubbing crudely, mercilessly between her legs. Her wet jeans might leave a rash later, but she repositioned her body to grant him better access.

"Don't stop."

"I'm going to fuck you," he said, moving his fingers faster. "I'll remind you who you belong to."

"You," she said. "I belong to you."

"Here?" He was already hard and not opposed to a quickie in the shower, but she shook her head.

"I have a small flogger in the bedroom," she said. "I want you to use it."

He reached up to shut off the water, then grabbed his wand from the holder suctioned to the wall. In a second, he'd apparated them into the bedroom, both still dripping wet, her still in a soaked bra and jeans. Ignoring this, he threw her onto the bed and crawled on after her.

"You want me to hurt you?" he asked, his voice low. She nodded. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back so she was facing up at the ceiling. "I'll hurt you."

"Please."

Using her hair like a handle, her turned her over onto her stomach, straddled her, and reached between her and the mattress to unbutton her jeans. It wasn't easy getting them off – denim sticks to skin when wet – but before long he had her naked. He flattened his body down over hers, kissed her cheek, and whispered into her ear.

"Do you want me to punish you?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "Please. Here…" She reached for the side table drawer, where she'd placed her purchases from the sex shop she'd visited with her sister, Jean, Hermione, and Dorcas. "I deserve it."

He jerked her lower body up so her arse was in the air, rubbed his cock with one hand, and held the small whip with the other. But after snapping it twice against her thigh, leaving a stinging red mark and making her gasp, he dropped the flogger over the side of the bed and collapsed on top of her, his chest to her back, her stomach to the mattress.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I can't hurt you. I can't punish you. You don't deserve to be punished."

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly.

"I wanted to let you take your anger out on me."

"I know." He kissed the back of her shoulder. He felt exhausted, suddenly. Weary. "I appreciate that. But I can't. Not tonight. I'm in no mood."

"Alright." The truth was, she wasn't in the mood either, but she'd have forced herself into the right mindset had he asked it of her.

"I wouldn't mind flogging you some other time, though," he said. He kissed her again, this time on the back of the neck. "We haven't played 'angry professor, naughty student' in a while."

She smiled. "Or rogue Azkaban guard and sexy prisoner."

He rolled off her with a chuckle and pulled her to him, so her head was settled in the center of his chest with both of his arms around her. He waved a hand, summoning up a heavy quilt folded at the bottom of the bed to cover them.

"It's probably for the best that we never mentioned these little games in front of Healer Smelthwyck. I have a feeling she'd think them unhealthy."

Andromeda laughed. "What could possibly be unhealthy about you pretending to abuse your position of power over scared, easily manipulated me?"

"I prefer it when the roles are reversed." He combed his fingers delicately through her limp wet ringlets, which were spread out across his chest. "You'll be the queen, and I'm your lowly stable boy…"

"If you're going to be a stable boy, I ought to whip you with a riding crop. And you'll need to dress the part."

"Yes, your majesty."

She giggled. He smiled. His eyes were starting to close when she spoke again.

"You were crying tonight. In the shower."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He reached for his wand, which had been discarded on the bed, and used it to do quick drying charms on the bed, their bodies, and Andromeda's hair (though it would cause her unmanageable frizz in the morning) and to light a fire in the fireplace. It was a chilly night. Finally, he answered the question.

"I feel like a failure. I've failed."

"At?"

"Everything."

"Oh, Kingsley."

"According to my parents, everything. I received a letter from them this morning, owled to me at the Ministry. My mother is concerned. My father is disappointed. Nothing new, but it never feels good. Becoming Minister for Magic after the war, I felt I'd finally made them proud. But now? I'm going to lose the next election. I'm living with one woman but quite possibly having a baby with another. I let you suffer for months because I didn't want to intervene. I essentially broke the law, then I used the law to my advantage to punish a man I'd felt wronged me personally. And tonight, I frightened Teddy by not coming home, because I wanted to drink instead, and I knew I couldn't drink here."

"I received fourteen letters today." She slipped her arm around his waist and threw her leg over his. "Eight of them were from people calling me the most awful names. I burned those. Two were from self-desribed prostitutes who thought it was brave of me to speak out on Dorcas' behalf. And four were from addicts in various stages of recovery, who thanked both of us for telling the world it's a disease, for trying to remind the greater wizarding world of our humanity and pain. Three of the four were relatively detailed, personal. One was graphic. She described a childhood of abuse, far worse than what I experienced. She wrote that until the article, until she read my words, she's never felt she was deserving of being loved. And now, she wonders if maybe she's not as worthless as she thought she was. She wonders if there's hope for her. She didn't sign it. I wish she had. I'd like to respond."

He Noxed the lights and set his wand on the bedside table. Hers had been abandoned in the loo with her soaked jumper; she'd retrieve both in the morning.

"Your parents must not think I'm good enough for you."

"No," he admitted. "But to be fair, they don't think anyone is good enough for me, nor am I good enough for my parents. I love them, but they've always had impossibly high standards."

"I received a notice from the Ministry this afternoon. Did you know about it?"

"A notice?"

She buried her face into the soft hair of his chest, breathing in the scent of cedar and citrus.

"Harry's officially fighting for custody of Teddy on the grounds that I'm an unfit parent. He's arguing that Teddy should live with him and Ginny and I should be permitted only occasional supervised visits. I suppose the only surprise is that it didn't come sooner. He's wanted to do it for months. Years, maybe."

"I don't know how you're getting by without a drink."

She half-smiled. "Neither do I, honestly."

"We'll manage, Andromeda. It never gets easier. But we'll manage."

"I don't want to lose him, Kingsley."

"I know." He kissed her gently, tenderly. "Don't worry. We won't."

 **SATURDAY AFTERNOON**

"What does that mean?" asked a small voice from the doorway to the kitchen.

Andromeda jolted, as did Narcissa and Jean. They turned to see Teddy standing there, his bespectacled Harry Potter Cat in hand.

"You might lose me?"

"Teddy! How long have you been standing there?"

"I don't want to live with Harry, Nana." He looked down at the cat in his hand for a long moment, then threw it toward the stove. It hit the oven door and fell to the floor with a soft thud. "I want to live with you."

"Teddy…"

"I'm telling Harry!" He tore from the kitchen, headed back to the sitting room. By the time Andromeda grabbed her wand and hurried in after him, he was already stepping into the fireplace, Floo powder in hand.

"Teddy, no!"

With a look of determination and a strong voice, he tossed it down and shouted, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

And he was gone.

* * *

 **A/N:**

I struggled like mad with this chapter. I rewrote it several times, and finally, when I had this done, I had to just post before I could go back and rewrite it again. I actually like the next chapter a lot, so I wanted to get this one out so I can get to it (Dorcas goes out with Neville, Teddy's 'feelings Healer' comes for an important session, and Andromeda agrees to meet up with someone from her past). I hope this one wasn't a disappointment, especially after such a long wait, and thank you so much for sticking with this fic!

 **-AL**


	33. Part Three: Week 7

**CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK SEVEN**

Andromeda found Teddy standing in front of the Black family tapestry on the parlor wall in Grimmauld Place.

"Teddy!"

She half-collapsed against the door frame, her heart racing uncontrollably, Both relief and fear were palpable in her voice, but Teddy did not seem to notice.

"Oh, hullo, Nana. I don't think Harry is here. I yelled and yelled."

"Teddy, let's go home." If they were quick, Harry might never find out they were here. "Kingsley will talk to Harry, alright? He won't take you away."

Andromeda hurried across the room and knelt beside him for a hug. She released him and was about to again suggest they leave, but a scorch mark between the names Bellatrix and Narcissa caught her eye. Her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't stop looking.

"This is where they write the names." Teddy pressed his small hand to the tapestry. He couldn't reach higher than the names of his maternal great-grandparents. "Harry show-ded me before. Look, here's Auntie Cissy." He ran his finger over Narcissa's name, then tapped his cousin's. "And Draco."

Andromeda rarely came to Grimmauld Place, as it made her heart hurt to remember childhood visits here, and she wasn't particularly keen on spending too much time in Harry's presence anyway. It was for these reasons she hadn't seen this tapestry up close since she was a little girl.

She pressed the tips of her first two fingers against the burnt spot where her name and picture used to be. Above the names of her and her sister, Cygnus and Druella. Below her name, nothing. No Nymphadora. But of course not. Aunt Walburga wouldn't have added her. For the first time, she wondered whether Nymphadora had ever come in this room while at Order headquarters, if she'd ever looked for her name and saw the space where her mum's once was. She wondered what it would have looked like, a line coming from Andromeda, attaching her to Ted, attaching them both to their daughter. And grandson.

Instead, it was almost as thought she'd never existed.

"What's wrong, Nana?" asked Teddy, his face screwed up with concern.

"This is where I was." She closed her eyes. "My name. When I had a mother and father."

"Your mother and father died?"

"Yes."

"Like mine?"

She opened her eyes and turned to him. "They're dead, like yours, but they didn't die like yours. Your parents were heroes. Mine were cowards."

He cupped her cheeks between his small hands and studied her face.

"You miss them?"

"Sometimes."

"Nana? I only want to live with you." He wrapped his arms around her neck so she drew him in for a tight hug. His face snuggled against her neck, under her hair. "I want to live with you and Kingsley and Dorcas and Meow-meow and _not_ Hope. But maybe a dog. If I can't have a brother."

"You can't have a brother." She kissed his cheek. "And no dogs. Let's go home."

She stood and took his hand, giving only one quick final look at her space on the tapestry. They were reaching for Floo Powder when the fire whooshed up and out stepped Harry.

He was, unsurprisingly, momentarily thrown to see them.

"I… what are you… Teddy!" He reached for the boy, but Teddy clung to his grandmother's leg. "What's wrong?"

"I want to live with Nana!"

The smile on Harry's face slipped away. He stared stonily at Andromeda.

"What have you been telling him?"

"Nothing! He overheard me telling my sister that you want him to live with you. He doesn't want to."

"This is inappropriate, Andromeda. Coming into my home uninvited, bringing him with you in an attempt to manip-"

"I'm not trying to manipulate you!"

"No? Not like you did Kingsley?"

The tips of her ears burned. The truth was, had she given thought to it, she might have taken Teddy here with exactly that intention, the same way she'd once done to Kingsley in order to get the Ministry to change their decision about how much support was to be given to Teddy in the wake of his mother's death… but she hadn't had the chance!

"We'll sort it out at the Ministry." Harry ruffled Teddy's hair, forcing the smile back to his face. "Don't worry. What's important is making sure you have a safe, happy place to live, and no matter where it is, you'll still be allowed to have visits with your grandmother."

"He's safe and happy now, Harry. You'd know that if you'd-" She abruptly cut herself off. Maybe she could manipulate him. Maybe she was going about this all wrong. "Come for dinner, Harry. Please. On Thursday. Kingsley is usually home early that night, Teddy's 'feelings Healer' is coming in the afternoon so I'll have plenty of time to cook something nice. Bring Ginny and the baby. Dorcas might even invite Neville; they've become friends recently. I want you to see what my home is like, what our family is like."

"Except Hope," Teddy chimed in.

"Hope will be home with her parents." Andromeda shot him a warning look. She then turned her attention back to Harry, trying out what she hoped was a genuine looking smile. "If you're still worried afterward, I'll sit down with you in front of someone from the Ministry and discuss the best way to proceed – the best future for Teddy – but I hope you'll consider the offer."

"You'll put on a good show for me, won't you? To make me believe?"

"I'll prepare a good meal, but no show. Stay as late as you'd like. Teddy can show you his bedroom, it looks a bit different now that there's a wall separating his with Dorcas's, and he can introduce you to his Therapy Cats and show you his educational workbooks. You can talk to Dorcas. She's shy, but a sweet girl. You know Kingsley won't put on a performance for anyone; he's himself, always. You'll see that we're a pretty typical family. I don't drink. I don't…" She glanced down at Teddy, who was still hugging her leg, and gently stroked his hair, which was shoulder-length, dark brown, and wavy. "I don't do other things I shouldn't. We play Scrabble. We read. I do crossword puzzles and bake. Teddy plays with his cousin and with Hermione's siblings. We have an evil cat."

"Meow-Meow is the bestest cat!"

"Please, Harry. You and I have been holding onto this animosity for far too long, and while I don't think one dinner will solve anything, I'd like… _we'd_ like for you to come. Think about it?"

His hardened expression softened slightly as he sighed.

"I'll check with Ginny. Sometimes she has Quidditch practice in the evenings. We'll let Kingsley know either way at the Ministry on Monday."

"Thank you." She tried to look grateful, humbled, as she took his hand and shook it (though she wanted to shake him by the shoulders instead). "We hope to see you there. Come on, Teddy. Into the fireplace."

That was five days ago. Now, Teddy was sitting on the living room floor playing Therapy Cats with his healer while Dorcas helped Andromeda in the kitchen.

"I can't believe you invited Neville!" she said for the forty-fifth time since Tuesday.

"He said he was excited to come." Andromeda bumped the girl with her hip, as the teenager was blocking the stove. Dorcas plopped down at the kitchen table. She was supposed to be kneading bread dough, but kept getting distracted.

The previous Saturday, Dorcas had gone out with Neville, as planned. She'd worn the short dress, too, as planned.

"It makes her look too old," lamented Kingsley in a whisper while Dorcas twirled in front of the just-purchased freestanding mirror in her small bedroom. He and Andromeda were standing in the hall, watching her spin on the toe of her high-heeled ankle boots.

"Will he like it?" asked Dorcas, smiling nervously at Andromeda in the reflection. "Will he think I look pretty?"

"He'll think you're beautiful because you are beautiful," Andromeda assured her.

"Kingsley?" asked Dorcas, needing a second opinion. "Will he like me in this?"

"He'll like you as a person. What you wear is irrelevant." (Andromeda elbowed him.) "But you look lovely, of course."

"Thank you!" She beamed.

"Sit down now," said Andromeda, waving her wand to transfigure a hat box into a chair. "I have to do _something_ with your hair. It can't be hanging in your face all night. We want him to know you have eyes and a mouth." She started into the bedroom, but Kingsley tugged her back into the hall.

"Andromeda!"

"What?"

"Look! When she sits, you can see half her thigh!"

"So?"

"So? It's too short! This is her first date, isn't it? Don't we want her to be _safe_? You know, my mother taught me a number of alteration charms in my youth. I could add another two inches to the hem-"

"Don't you dare!" Andromeda swatted at him playfully. "She looks perfect, Kingsley. It's a flattering dress. Exactly what she needs for a night like tonight. Trust me. As a woman, I know what's best for a girl her age. You don't."

"All due respect, _woman_ , as a man I remember what it was like to be Neville's age. They only have one thing on their minds."

"Herbology?"

"No."

"Quidditch?"

 _"Andromeda!"_

Andromeda chuckled. "Later tonight, when Teddy is sleeping, you and I will unpack everything that is wrong with this entire conversation, but for now I'll simply say I think it's adorable how worried you are, but I don't think Neville is the sort of young man to be driven so wild by a bit of thigh he'll pounce on the poor girl."

"But what if he does?" Kingsley glanced at Dorcas, who was sitting in front of the mirror applying mascara. He pulled Andromeda farther down the hall. "She's only ever been around men who've taken advantage of her, right? What if Neville – he might not even do it on purpose - he may just ask her to come home with him, like anyone might, and what if she feels she can't say no, or she doesn't know how, or what if he pressures her, or manipulates her? Or what if she simply thinks she _owes_ it to him for being _nice_ to her? Have you spoken with her about consent? She knows she can say no? Even if it's just a kiss he wants, she can–"

"I hate to encourage you, but you have a point." Andromeda bit her lip, thinking hard. "Fine. I'll talk to her while I fix her hair. I don't want her to feel pressured, no matter how nice he is. She needs to know she can say no."

Kingsley looked relieved. "Good."

"And also that she can say yes."

"What?"

"If she wants to. If he wants to take her home and if she wants to go home with him-"

"It's their _first_ date! Who goes home together on the first date?"

Andromeda positively cracked up at this. "Oh, my dear, sweet man! _We_ did, remember? We'd already shagged each other, while both seeing other people, no less, and then, on our first date, we left that restaurant to go home, have ice cream, and-"

"It's not the same." He scowled, but he also wrapped his arms around her. "We were both over forty."

"Kingsley." She pressed her lips quickly to his. "I'll talk with her about consent. I'll make it clear she has the right and ability to say no at any time for any reason, but I do want her to know it's _okay_ to say _yes._ Nymphadora…" Andromeda exhaled slowly. "Ted and I loved her and wanted to protect her, so we warned her about predatory boys and gave her far too many rules. We were afraid someone would try to take advantage of her because she was a Metamorph, a fear that was not unfounded, I might add. But as a result, the first man she fell for was the one she lost her virginity to, the one she married, the one she became pregnant by far too soon, and the one she died with. Maybe if we'd let her date, if we'd told her it was okay to say yes..."

"She's not Tonks."

Andromeda clasped her hands behind Kingsley's back, settled just above his arse, and leaned her upper body back so they could see each other better.

"I know."

He started again. "If we're committed to being like parents for the girl-"

"We don't have to be _overprotective_ parents. Protective to a point, yes, but let's not forget that she's of age, she's been more or less on her own for years, and while she needs structure, she doesn't need wardens." She tucked her head under his chin, snuggling closer. "I don't want Dorcas to be like me, but I don't want her to end up like Nymphadora either. I realize she's not a virgin, but she's woefully inexperienced, and experience is important. She doesn't need to marry the first person she falls for like I did, like my daughter did, like Harry did and like Hermione will next year. She should date. Explore her options. Have fun." She kissed his chest, right over his heart. "Fuck around."

He groaned, pulling away. "Can't you leave it at 'have fun'?"

"Andromeda?" called Dorcas from the bedroom. "Can we start my hair now? He'll be here soon!"

Andromeda smiled again at Kingsley, who smiled back in spite of himself, and hurried into the bedroom. Kingsley went into Teddy's room, where the boy was playing with his mother's old Gobstones set; he was flicking them around the floor, letting them bang into each other seemingly at random.

"Mind if I join you?" asked Kingsley.

"Okay," said Teddy. "My Gobstones are the Order. Yours can be the Death Eaters."

Since then, Neville had already taken Dorcas out twice more. On Sunday afternoon, they went to an indoor herbs and fungi market for a couple of hours, and on Tuesday they'd gone to dinner with Hermione and Draco after the girls' Book Club. That was when Andromeda invited him to join them for Thursday's dinner.

Dorcas stood at the kitchen table, humming tunelessly to herself while kneading the dough as Andromeda checked on the meat. Andromeda was trying to distract herself from the stress of the night ahead and found herself thinking about the Saturday before.

"Dorcas?"

"Yes?"

"Have you and Neville…" She closed the oven door. "Has he kissed you?"

Dorcas immediately went pink. She nodded.

"On Tuesday," she admitted in a whisper. "When he walked me home from the apparition point. He's good at apparating! I wasn't worried about being splinched at all!"

"That's… good." Andromeda wasn't actually crazy about the idea of him side-along apparating with her because it could be dangerous, but she bit her tongue (and decided not to mention it to Kingsley).

"He said not to worry, I can trust him. He's been apparating since he was eighteen – he says he was a slow learner, but once he got it, it stuck. He says they weren't nice to him in school, you know. The other students. They weren't nice to him or Luna. They were teased and left out sometimes and even though he's much happier having friends than not, he says he doesn't like being famous because of the war. He says all he did was lead a student resistance and lop the head off a snake. Now he just wants to teach Herbology and live a quiet life."

"You like him very much, don't you?"

She nodded a second time, going redder.

"When he kissed me, he didn't slobber at all. He didn't bite my lip or pull my hair or any of that." Her eyes went a little starry. "It was the nicest, gentlest, sweetest kiss of my whole entire life."

"You're young yet." Andromeda tried not to roll her eyes.

"Neville's only kissed two girls before and he said he was sorry because he doesn't think he's much good at it but I thought he was brilliant."

"I was afraid of this."

Dorcas looked alarmed. "Of what?"

"This. You're swooning. Three dates, one kiss, and you're half in love."

"I am _not_ half in love!" Dorcas argued. "I'm _completely_ in love."

Andromeda threw up her hands dramatically. "It's worse than I thought! She's fallen in love! After less than a week of dating! Oh, dear girl, have I taught you nothing?"

"Kingsley says he fell in love with _you_ on your very first date. Why can't the same be true for me and Nev-"

"Kingsley said that?"

"Yes. He said he wanted to marry you before you'd even finished your ice cream. So is it mad for me to lov-"

"It's different, Dorcas." Andromeda put a hand on her cheek to pull her close and kissed her on the temple, the way she so often did to Teddy… and used to do to Nymphadora. "Kingsley and I were both over forty."

"What difference does that make?"

"I don't know. Ask him." She turned back to the stove to check the potatoes. Almost ready. "Please, Dorcas, try not to fall in love with Neville – or anyone else – so fast. You've got time. And it's normal to have your heart broken when you're young. You'll date, become a couple, break up, move on, date someone else… that's how it's supposed to work."

"You think he'll break my heart?" Dorcas suddenly looked panicked. "Did you hear something? Did he tell Hermione and she told Narcissa and Narcissa told you? He doesn't even like me, does he? He's seeing me out of pity!" Her eyes filled with tears. "Maybe he shouldn't come to dinner."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean... Merlin's beard, no. I just don't want you to move too fast, that's all. Did I ever tell you about the morning after my Nymphadora's first time?"

"First time doing what?"

"What do you think?"

Dorcas shrugged. "Dating?"

"Sex, Dorcas. The first time Nymphadora had sex, she-"

"Nana?"

Like a nosy ghost, Teddy had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Healer Bonham wants to talk to you before she leaves."

"Alright. Excuse me. Dorcas, keep an eye on the potatoes, please. Teddy, don't touch the oven or stove."

Andromeda tripped over Meow-Meow while entering the sitting room, swore, and straightened up to greet Artemisia.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes. I have concerns."

"Concerns?"

"Yes. Teddy was more anxious during our session today than I've seen him in some time. Could we sit?"

Andromeda nodded. Though she was sure things would always be awkward between herself and the Healer whose husband she'd shagged so many years ago, they both had Teddy's best interests at heart, and that had to count for something.

"Today, Teddy was compulsively arranging his cats in a line according to size while we were speaking and several times I coaxed his fingers out of his mouth; he's biting the skin around his nails. He says he thinks Harry Potter is coming tonight to take him away. I won't tell you how to parent, but if the boy is going to be moving to a new home, it may be worth letting me know so I can help prepare him for the transition." Artemisia gave Andromeda a stern look. "For what it's worth, I think uprooting him suddenly will cause him considerable emotional damage. He's terrified of losing the people he loves and he's becoming increasingly preoccupied with death. Today he told me that Teddy Cat accidentally pushed Harry Potter Cat into the dollhouse fireplace and now he might be dead. Then he cried and asked me not to take him to Azkaban." She held up Harry Potter Cat, whose face had been melted to the point of being unrecognizable. "I was able to get him to admit that _human_ Teddy put the toy cat's head in the real fireplace, but he lied more than once about how it happened before admitting it. This is indicative of an issue. He's never been aggressive toward one of my Therapy Cats before, at least not that I know of. I find it alarming."

Andromeda sighed, picked up the pillow she'd often held during her own therapy sessions, and began fiddling with the fringe.

"Harry Potter is his godfather, as you're no doubt aware. Harry has long thought Teddy would be better off in his custody than in mine, and last week he officially applied for guardianship on the grounds that I'm unfit. We're having him and his wife for dinner tonight with the hope of convincing them I'm not a bloody monster. I hadn't intended to tell Teddy what was going on, but he overheard me telling my sister and a friend how worried I am about losing him. He's also been asking a lot of questions about my parents lately. I haven't explained that they disowned me but he's a perceptive boy. He realizes my relationship with them was… not good."

Artemisia shook her head, looking pained. She set the melted cat on the coffee table. "I'm sure Harry Potter has Teddy's welfare in mind, but he doesn't need a new home. He needs to feel stable and secure in this one. And I think we were getting close to achieving that, but now…"

A lump rose in Andromeda's throat.

"If it goes in front of the partial Wizengamot – they have a smaller court who handle domestic cases – would you be willing to testify to that? I don't want to lose him. I'm not unfit. I haven't had a drink – or anything else – since April. We're almost to December. I don't hurt myself, I don't engage in dangerous activities, I don't venture anywhere near Knockturn Alley. I know you aren't fond of me, Artemisia, but I'm doing my best and I'm not a bad person."

"I realize that." Artemisia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Teddy says Nana Cat makes the best food and tells the best bedtime stories. Andromeda? We were friends once, remember?"

"For a time," said Andromeda.

Without warning, Artemisia reached out and grabbed one of Andromeda's hands.

"Listen, I had no idea you… I… I read your article. In the Quibbler. And I cried. I had no idea what you'd gone through, what you've been going through. How you've felt. And I'll admit, when you came into the facility, despite my training and the nonjudgmental way I am _supposed_ to view patients, I still felt the old animosity toward you, and I saw you in all the ways you talked about in the article. An addict. A whore. Someone who brought her issues upon herself despite having a charmed life as the girlfriend of the Minister for Magic and grandmother to a precocious child, mother of a war hero. My view was myopic, lacking in empathy, and prejudicial. And I'm sorry." She hugged Andromeda tightly, briefly, before releasing her, but again took her hand.

"I… thank you?" Andromeda, not one for random displays of emotion (or hand-holding) had no idea how to respond.

"As I said, Teddy needs to feel safe and secure here, at home. He has a lot of fear, anxiety, and also anger. We'll have to work on that, not just in therapy, but in his everyday life. As a team. Please, don't relapse. Stay strong. Stay clean. Sober. He needs you."

"Oh, the fuck..." groaned Andromeda. "Alright."

"He needs you," Artemisia repeated emphatically.

 _He needs you._

Sigh.

Yes, she knew that. She'd always known that. Knowing he needed her is what staved off suicide attempts all the times she'd thought about it when he was a newborn, an infant, a toddler… until "he needs you" wasn't enough and started to be replaced by the thought, "He'd be better off without you."

"I have to be off, but if you need support at a hearing, should it come to that, have them call upon me." She squeezed and released Andromeda's hand, then stood, cueing her to do the same.

"Thank you," said Andromeda. "And I'll talk to Teddy tonight. About those fears. I'll reassure him."

"See you next week." She grabbed a bit of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace. "St. Mungo's!"

Kingsley made it home from work about fifteen minutes before Harry, Ginny, and Neville were set to arrive.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" He kissed Andromeda quickly on the lips. The table was setting itself while Andromeda put the finishing touches on the meal.

Dorcas had gone upstairs to put on makeup and ready herself for Neville and had already come down twice complaining that she didn't have anything suitable to wear because he'd already seen her best dress, her second-best dress, and her best pair of jeans. ("They're bloody jeans," Andromeda had said. "He doesn't expect you to have a different pair for every day of the week!")

Teddy was sitting under the kitchen table playing with a toy Knight Bus, a Muggle black cab, the first car of the Hogwarts Express, and a blue Ford Anglia sold by the recently created Potter Foundation to raise money for war orphans (made to commemorate the time the great Harry Potter and his sidekick, Weasley, flew a flying car to Hogwarts).

"Busy day?"

"Yes. And excruciatingly slow. Meeting after meeting after meeting about nothing of substance. Bureaucracy."

"Bore us about it over dinner, darling, but not now, my bread is going to burn if I don't get it out of the oven."

He chuckled. "I'm going up to change into something more comfortable." He was in a three-piece suit and tie, as the last of the day's meetings had been with the Muggle Prime Minister.

Neville arrived first, holding a small bouquet of flowers for the object of his affections.

Dorcas smiled shyly and thanked him, then rushed to put them in water. He trailed her into the kitchen.

"It smells incredible in here," he said after inhaling deeply. Andromeda beamed.

"Thank you. It's crispy topped Cumberland pie with homemade bread and a choice of sticky toffee pudding or homemade rose macarons for after. Or both."

"Wow!"

"I helped make the macarons," said Dorcas. She'd chosen to wear a blouse that Andromeda had purchased for Nymphadora ten years before, one the young woman had only worn twice to appease her mother. It was dark orange with a scooped neck and three-quarter sleeves. This was paired with the dark blue jeans. If Neville realized they were the same pair he'd seen her in on Sunday, he didn't comment on it.

"I'd love to try a macaron," said Neville, smiling. "Those are hard to make! Susan and I took a baking class once. A different pastry or sweet every week! I miss it. It was fun trying… all… the… er…" He trailed off, catching Dorcas' hurt expression. "I didn't mean I miss _her,"_ he said quickly. "Only the baking."

"I am sure Dorcas doesn't begrudge you any positive memories you might have shared with a previous girlfriend, just as Kingsley has no issues with knowing I had happy memories with my late husband. Right, Dorcas?"

"Right!" she agreed, but she looked uneasy.

"I've only had two girlfriends. Susan and Luna. They were both nice." Neville shrugged apologetically.

"I hate girlfriends!" announced Teddy from under the table. "Except when they have to clean your room."

"We have discussed this, young man." Andromeda crouched down so they were eye-to-eye. "Girlfriends do not have to clean your room. _You_ clean your room. All men clean their own rooms."

"You clean Kingsley's room," Teddy retorted smartly. "He said so. He said, 'Nothing like a woman who knows how to keep a clean room! And then he left his robe on the floor in your bedroom. I seed him do it."

"And he will be punished for that later tonight," said Andromeda, keeping her expression serious.

"With a time away or a spanking?" asked Teddy. He seemed intrigued by the very notion that an adult could get punished.

"The latter, I hope!" boomed Kingsley's voice as he reentered the kitchen. He, too, was in jeans and a casual shirt. "What do you say, Andromeda? A spanking?"

Neville laughed. Dorcas giggled.

"Yes," said Andromeda, gaze still fixed on Teddy. "Several spankings, probably."

Teddy shook his head, his eyes wide. "That's biiiiig trouble."

Andromeda was about to retort, but a knock at the front door distracted them all.

"Hm. They're not coming by Floo?" Kingsley shrugged. The person at the door knocked again. "I'll get it."

Andromeda straightened and hurried to finishing getting the food ready. Dorcas helped Teddy climb out from under the table so he could wash his hands and put away the toys. Neville asked if there was anything he could help with.

Kingsley returned to the kitchen with no one in tow.

"Aren't they here?" asked Andromeda as she set the bread basket on the table. Kingsley shook his head.

"It's not them." His expression was unreadable. "It's a woman… She... she says she's your mother-in-law."

Andromeda froze.

"What's a mother-in-law?" asked Teddy. No one answered him.

"I am _so sorry_ to drop in unexpectedly," said a voice Andromeda hadn't heard in well over twenty-five years. A white-haired, slender, stuffy looking woman in a sensible dress and pearls stepped into the kitchen. "You see, I've just learned the tragic news about my son and granddaughter, thus I _had_ to see my daughter-in-law straight away."

"Louise Tonks," said Andromeda. She leaned back against the counter, nothing short of stunned. "Well. This is a surprise. How have you been?"


	34. Part Three: Week 8

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK EIGHT**

"My back is killing me," complained Kingsley as he entered the bedroom after taking a long shower. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. He kicked off his slippers, dropped his towel on the floor, and stretched. It was Friday night, one day shy of week after the semi-disastrous dinner with Harry, Ginny, and – to everyone's surprise – Louise Tonks. "I feel old."

"You _are_ old," said Andromeda, not glancing up from her crossword puzzle book. She was sitting up in bed, her glasses perched on the end of her nose, wearing cotton pajamas. It was a cool night.

"I thought parenting would be easier." Kingsley, still naked, pulled back the blankets and crawled into bed beside Andromeda. He arranged two pillows behind his back against the headboard and pulled the blanket over his legs, but didn't bother covering his chest.

"You're going to get the pillows wet," she said.

"I got _you_ sufficiently wet earlier, didn't I? Suppose it's the pillows' turn," he joked, referring to when they'd fooled around on the couch while waiting for Dorcas and Neville to return.

She chuckled, rolled her eyes, and returned to figuring out a 9-letter word for 'Man of Mythological Self-Adoration.' He leaned over, peering at the page.

"Narcissus."

"Narcissus!" She penciled it in. "Yes, that's it. But don't help me."

"I'm usually rubbish at those."

"Are you planning to sleep naked?" asked Andromeda. "What if Teddy slips into bed with us again?"

"He saw me naked on Wednesday. Didn't seem to phase him." But Kingsley accioed over pajama bottoms anyway.

"I talked to him about that after you left for the Ministry. I think he's developed a fear of being left alone in the shower, even though I usually sit right outside the tub. He said he'd had another nightmare about that spigot monster who snakes through the pipes. He said it ate him. I tried to make him feel better and reassured him he doesn't have to be alone in the room, but I also explained that he's too old to be stepping into the shower with people. I don't know, though, Kingsley. Is he? Too old, I mean? He's only five. A baby."

"Not a baby." He sighed. "For what it's worth, I don't recall _ever_ stepping into the shower with my father. Or my mother."

"Nor I." Andromeda shuddered. "I imagine seeing either of my parents naked would have been more traumatizing than being disowned by them. They were not attractive people."

Kingsley chortled.

"So?" she pressed.

"So, to answer your question, I think he's too old, yes. And age aside, I don't think he should be showering with _me_ at all. It's one thing if I help him in the bath, but he and I... we're not related, even. What do you suppose the Ministry will make of that, should we have to argue in front of the Wizengamot? What if they try to make it out to be something it's not? They already think we're deviants."

"I hadn't thought of that." Andromeda cringed. "At least he isn't trying to shower with Dorcas."

"Yet," said Kingsley. "But I caught him trying to bring the cat in there with him yesterday."

"Oh, dear. I bet Meow-meow _loved_ that."

"About as much as I did," said Kingsley. He reached for the book on his bedside table. Andromeda returned to her crossword. But both of them were struggling to concentrate.

On Wednesday morning, Kingsley had hopped into the shower before work, as usual. He was scrubbing his face when he sensed he was not alone. His eyes flew open, he turned around, and saw... no one.

Then he looked down.

"Wotcher!" said Teddy cheerfully. He'd recently learned it was a favorite greeting of his mother. His hair was bright pink and spiky, and his long-sleeved shirt was tangled up around his neck and one arm. He held up the arm still in its sleeve. "I got stuck. You can help?"

"Teddy!" Kingsley hurriedly put a hand in front of his... man-parts... and tried to free Teddy from his shirt with the other. "What are you doing?"

"Sometimes Nana lets me take a shower with her. But she's sleeping. Can you wash my hair?"

"I don't think this is appropriate, Teddy!" He tossed the boy's shirt out of the shower.

"Nana said it was okay!"

Kingsley stared discerningly down at the boy. "Did she?"

Teddy went slightly pink.

"Maybe she did."

"Did she, Teddy?"

"She's sleeping!" Teddy held up his arms. "You pick me up?"

"You... I... we... ugh." Kingsley obliged. He held the boy to his chest, with Teddy facing out toward the cascading water. He had one arm across his waist and the other under his thighs, keeping him in a seated position, as if in a chair. "Get your hair wet."

The boy closed his eyes and let Kingsley hold him under the stream, clutching tightly to the man's forearm. His pink spikes turned to loose brown curls and the nose he'd morphed - which had been the same shape as Kingsley's - went back to its natural state. Kingsley tried to put him down but Teddy shrieked.

"No! Monster!"

"There are no monsters in the shower."

"Yes! Bas-a-list!" shouted Teddy, trying to climb back up Kingsley as if he was a tree.

"Basilisk? Has Harry been telling you stories?"

"Up, up!" was Teddy's reply.

With a sigh, Kingsley lifted him and held him on one hip, the way Andromeda always did.

"Teddy?" Kingsley put a finger under Teddy's chin, making him look at him. "Did Harry tell you about a basilisk at Hogwarts?"

"No," said Teddy. But after a pause, he confessed, "Ginny telled me. On Sunday. 'Cause I aksed for a bedtime story about hero Harry Potter. She said he saved her from the basalist monster who lives in the pipes and eats people."

"It doesn't eat people."

"It eated all the people at Hogwarts!"

"It did not ea-"

"IT EATS PEOPLE!" shouted Teddy. He buried his face against Kingsley's shoulder, clinging to him like a terrified baby koala to its mother. In a whimper, he added, "It eats people, it eats people."

"Alright, then," said Kingsley, in no mood to argue about it now. This explained the recent nightmares, the anxiety about teeth brushing, and the unwillingness to use the toilet alone. Poor kid must be torn between his love of showering and his fear of "basalists."

Kingsley sighed and reached for the shampoo. He might as well wash the boy's hair.

After that semi-disastrous dinner on Saturday night, Andromeda had agreed to let Teddy spend the night with his godfather so she could deal with Louise (while Neville took Dorcas out for puddings). Both she and Kingsley hoped this would be a sort of peace offering, a reminder that he could be part of Teddy's family without taking him away, but for Harry it had just reinforced the notion that the boy would be better off with him, his wife, and baby James Sirius.

But of course Harry thought they did the better job. _They_ hadn't been dealing with a week's worth of nightmares since.

Kingsley set his book down the bed and turned to Andromeda. They had more than one problem child to discuss. No sense waiting until morning.

"Do you reckon-"

"Shh. I'm almost done with this puzzle."

With an eye roll, Kingsley again tried to lose himself in his latest book, mystery/thriller about Augustus Parsons, a half-giant Auror, and his partner, Gleerock, a female goblin. This time, he only read for about three pages before asking too-casually, "Are we not going to talk about Dorcas and Neville tonight?"

"We are." Andromeda filled in 26 Across: Obscurial. "But I had to put Teddy back down, then you needed a shower, and now I'm almost through with this."

"Can't you take a break from that?" He set the book down in his lap again, open over his thigh. "I need to talk."

"Very well," said Andromeda, lowering her crossword as if doing so pained her. "Let's talk."

"Good."

"I don't want her to get pregnant," said Andromeda at the same time Kingsley said, "I think she should stop seeing him."

"I don't know that we need to go that far!" Andromeda set the crossword puzzle book on her bedside table with the pencil bookmarking her page. "There's nothing wrong with what they were doing."

"Need I remind you, she was a half hour late for curfew," said Kingsley. "Came home giggly off champagne, caught snogging each other stupid on the front step. It's inappropriate. He's twenty-three. She's eighteen. She's utterly smitten. He's not interested in anything serious. A dangerous combination, trust me. I don't like it."

"I don't want her to get pregnant," Andromeda said again, slowly, "But she's happy, he's happy, he's a nice boy, she deserves a nice boy. It doesn't have to be forever. Which I'll continue to stress to her. And tomorrow, we'll speak to her again about the drinking. On Monday, I'll see if I can get her in to see a Healer who specializes in female health – she told me today she's never seen one. The important thing is that, whatever they're doing, they're safe and smart about it. And I wouldn't be against having him over for a chat sometime next week."

Kingsley shook his head.

"Dating only a fortnight, she says she's in love, he's pawing at her in public, they're–"

"Oh, he was hardly pawing at her in public, Kingsley!" Andromeda placed her hand above his knee, just below the book, and squeezed. "Our front step isn't exactly the Leaky Cauldron and he hardly managed a feel over her coat before you opened the door. Let's not overdramatize it."

He glared down at the spine of his book as if it had sided with her. "You weren't much help, spying from the window then pretending you hadn't seen a thing when I tried to confront them about it."

"I said I shall speak with her tomorrow about the drinking."

"And…?"

"And we'll… As I said, we'll discuss it with them next week! We'll invite Neville over for dinner again, send Teddy next door to play, then have the sex talk with both of them afterward. Will that make you happy?"

"Not even slightly," said Kingsley. "I suppose it's better than nothing."

"She's eighteen and he's twenty-three, Kingsley. Is it so unnatural, what they're doing?"

"You weren't happy after Nymphadora's first time, were you?" he countered, knowing full well she wasn't. "And she was older than Dorcas. She was Neville's age."

"She was woefully inexperienced. Remus was her first and I…" Andromeda twirled a curl around her index finger to keep from pulling at the hairs on the back of her neck, which she hadn't yanked from her head in a fit of anxiety in weeks. "I thought she could do better, frankly. He was too old, too poor, no job, no future… a _werewolf…"_

"A war hero, a professor, well-read, a good man…"

"I'm not saying he was a derelict, but he wasn't right for my daughter."

"You're _not_ saying he was a derelict? But you've _just said_ he was poor, no job, no future..."

Andromeda turned her upper body to better face Kingsley.

"My Dora–" She broke off, not having used the girl's nickname, given to her by her father, in some time. "Nymphadora started seeing him knowing full well how dangerous it could be to fall for a man like that. And fall, she did! The morning after their first night together, the first night they spent together, she came home bursting with emotion. She crawled into bed with me – her father had already left for work – woke me, and told me she'd finally 'become a woman.'" Andromeda rolled her eyes. "First she said it was wonderful, then she cried because she regretted it, then she said she was in love and felt silly for having cried. It was a roller coaster morning. Have you ever been on a roller coaster?"

"That sounds sweet," said Kingsley, though he knew as well as she did he wouldn't be saying the same if she were his daughter and not his former coworker and friend.

"Sweet, my arse. Not three days later that man told he could never see her again, that it had been a mistake, that _she_ had been a mistake, and that he was sorry, and then he disappeared for weeks! She was heartbroken! And that's how the rest of their relationship was. He'd come back, she'd beg him to fall back into bed with her, he would, then she'd ask for commitment, he'd say he wasn't good enough for her, and he'd disappear again. Her self-worth became wrapped up in whether he wanted her or not. She lost the ability to morph, which had always been second-nature. She cried more in late 1996 than from age five to fifteen. Her Patronus changed from a jack rabbit to a wolf. The man _changed_ her _Patronus,_ for Salazar's sake! She spent much of the last two years of her life in and out of a deep depression, all because that man didn't see himself as worthy of her, and therefore saw fit to hurt her – to hurt both of them! – over and over and… and over… and… and…" Andromeda trailed off, looking stricken.

"He sounds like you," said Kingsley unnecessarily. "As does she."

"No," she whispered. "Nothing like me."

"Quite like you." He took her hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her inner wrist. "You've hurt both of us because you have, at times, not felt worthy of me, like Remus, and, according to Healer Smelthwyck, your sense of self-worth became tied to how I felt about you."

"Not like me, nothing like me!" she said insistently, tearing back her hand, but they both knew she didn't believe her own words.

"You hated him?"

"I hated what being with him did to her." Andromeda combed her fingers through her hair, pulling it in front of her face like a curtain. It was getting long again. Curly. She was starting to look more like Bellatrix. But older. "Her Patronus changed, her appearance changed, her personality changed. My bright, sunny girl became sullen and melancholy, and then, when he'd return, it was like _she_ returned, but it was always temporary because he'd inevitably leave her once more. He broke her heart over and over again, Kingsley."

"I know from having spoken with him at Headquarters that his primary concern was hurting her. He wanted to spare her unnecessary pain. He loved her, but thought she could do better than him."

"She could have!" said Andromeda. "He left her _again_ when she was pregnant. _Pregnant!_ With _his_ child! Already married _and he left her!_ It shattered her, I didn't know how she'd ever recover, though I was secretly relieved. I hoped it would be permanent, that he'd be gone for good. I even talked to her about… about an annulment."

"Did you?"

She'd never mentioned that part to Kingsley before.

"She lived here, with me and Ted – though she stayed at Headquarters sometimes, which is, I assume, where she slept with him, she never had a home away from me and her dad – and I promised her we'd raise Teddy together, she and I. I promised her we didn't need the werewolf, that we would be better off without him. I was determined to be the supportive mother I didn't have when I was a new mum."

(Kingsley knew better than to point out that pushing for an annulment and calling her daughter's husband 'the werewolf' probably wasn't all that supportive.)

"But the werewolf came back. Always, he came back. And then, then night he went off to fight at Hogwarts, I didn't want her to follow, as you know. I wanted her home with me, with Teddy. He was so tiny then, Kingsley. This big…" She held her hands out as if presenting a cradled infant, one smaller than Meow-meow. "He needed her! I said she shouldn't worry, the werewolf would come back, as he always did, like a stray dog looking for food, and she was better off at home, safer, with her baby and her mum. But she said couldn't let him go it alone. She said she trusted me to care for Teddy. And then neither of them came back."

"Andromeda…"

"It never goes away, Kingsley." She pulled off her glasses, blinking rapidly to keep away the tears. "The pain of losing a child. It's always right there, below the surface, and just when you start to feel happy again, it's there to remind you that your child will never again know happiness, will never again…"

"I know." He placed the book on his bedside table and pulled her to his bare chest. The soft hair there was still a bit damp from his shower, but she made no mention of it.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, closed her eyes, and let him hold her.

"Andromeda? I know what it is to lose a child. And I cannot take that pain away from you. But I wish I could."

With her ear to his chest she could hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart. This reminded her of how she cradled baby Teddy night after night after night after his mummy didn't come home. He was too small to understand or process loss the way an older child might, but even at mere weeks old, he knew the woman who bore him was missing, and he cried for hours on end. He was near impossible to soothe some nights. She'd unbutton her blouse down to nearly her navel and let him rest his soft, teeny cheek against her breast. She couldn't nurse him as Dora had, but the contact with her skin seemed to calm him. Perhaps her heartbeat sounded like that of her daughter.

"Kingsley?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"She said she trusted me to care for Teddy."

"I know."

"She'd told me before, hours after he was born, 'if anything ever happens to me, I trust you to care for Teddy.' She said it again when she left that night, the night she was killed. She trusted me."

"I know."

"And now Harry Potter's going to take Teddy away because he thinks she was wrong to… do you think she was wrong to trust me to care for Teddy?"

"No." He kissed the top of her head. "And we're not going to allow Harry to take Teddy away."

"I'm tired." She hugged him around the waist. "Will you Nox the lights and hold me until I'm asleep?"

"Yes."

But they'd only just gotten comfortably situated under the blankets, spooning, when the bedroom door opened and Dorcas wandered in. She leaned against the doorframe, looking worse for wear.

"Andromeda? I… feel sick. I might be sick."

"That's because you've been drinking champagne, dear."

"Can you help me? I don't... I might..."

"I'm coming."

Andromeda extricated herself from the bed. She wrapped an arm around Dorcas' shoulder and led her from the room, toward the loo. In the light of the hall, Dorcas looked a twinge green. She held one hand against her stomach. The other went around Andromeda, steadying herself.

"You had a problem with substances other than alcohol, that's what landed you in the facility, yes?"

"Yes," said Dorcas. "But I didn't drink. I never drank. My mother used to drink. And I…"

She let out a low moan. Andromeda recognized that moan. The girl would be vomiting soon. Andromeda hurried her into the bathroom.

"Kneel down, now. That's it. Alright. Okay. Right into the toilet, now." Andromeda held back Dorcas' hair and rubbed her back soothingly while she experienced an unwelcome revisit from tonight's dinner. "Let it all out. You'll feel better once it's over. There, there."

Once the girl was through, had had her face washed, brushed her teeth, and downed a stomach settling solution, Andromeda guided her back to her bedroom.

"Does champagne always make people feel sick?"

"Only women," lied Andromeda. She pulled back the covers and fluffed the pillow. "All alcohol makes women feel sick. That is why you should never, never drink it. It's like this every time. Sometimes worse."

"Then I won't ever drink again," said Dorcas miserably as she crawled into bed. "Not ever."

"That's a good girl." Andromeda kissed her forehead and smoothed back her sweaty hair, the way she had the first time Nymphadora came home pissed and lost her dinner.

(Nymphadora, though, hadn't made it past the fireplace hearth in the living room. Magic couldn't clean up the entirely of the mess she left, which Andromeda woke her up bright and early the next morning to take care of by hand… while also assuring her no, no hangover potions currently existed, unfortunately.)

"Will I feel better in the morning?" asked Dorcas weakly. Andromeda half-smiled in the dark.

"You might. You might not. I'll let Teddy wake you for breakfast as soon as he's up and we'll see. Sometimes the effects from drinking last all day. Two days, even. Depending upon how much you've had, and what kind."

"Ohhh."

(She almost felt badly about lying to the girl... but if the lie worked, it was alright, right?)

"If you need to be sick again…" Andromeda tapped a small glass on the girl's bedside table with her wand, turning it into a bucket. "Try not to get it on the floor."

"Elven Herb never made me feel this way. Not when I smoked its leaves. Not when I snorted the powdered version. That was never like this." Dorcas pressed her palms to her forehead, to stop the room from spinning. It didn't work. "Champagne ought to be illegal."

"Yes," agreed Andromeda, though champagne was one of her personal favorites. "And as I said, it will make you sick like this _every time._ That's what _all_ alcohol does. That is precisely why we don't drink. We can discuss this more in the morning."

"If I live until morning."

"Let's not be melodramatic. How much did you have?"

"Three glasses."

"Then you'll live. It takes a least four to kill you overnight." Andromeda kissed the girl's cheek and pulled the covers up over her. "But you shouldn't chance it in the future."

"Alright."

"Alright. Goodnight." Andromeda turned to go. She was nearly to the door when Dorcas spoke again.

"Goodnight, Andromeda," the girl whispered. "I love you."

Andromeda paused and slowly turned to face her in the dark. Dorcas' eyes were closed, she was on her back, and her hands were still pressed to her forehead. It was almost as if she hadn't spoken… but Andromeda was almost certain she hadn't imagined it.

"Do you?" she asked.

"I wish… you were… my mum," whispered Dorcas slowly. She sounded as though she was already drifting off.

"I'll be your mum, then," said Andromeda softly. "Go to sleep, now."

She next went into Teddy's room to check on him. He was snoring peacefully, his legs hanging half off the bed, with Meow-meow sharing his pillow. She swatted the cat over (it hissed at her) and rearranged him, tucked him back in, and made sure the soft crib mattress was still properly positioned to catch him should he roll completely out of bed, which he did semi-regularly now that he'd moved from a toddler bed to one of 'big boys.'

She knelt on the crib mattress and stroked his hair as she'd just done Dorcas', and again she was thinking of Nymphadora.

"You deserve the mummy you should have had," she whispered. "I'm going to be better for you, Teddy. I won't let Harry take you away, or anyone else. Your mummy trusted me to care for you and that's what I'll do." She kissed his tiny nose. In his sleep, his hair, which had gone natural as it did every night, momentarily flashed bright pink. Andromeda smiled.

"There's no question you're her son."

By the time she climbed back into bed with Kingsley, he was fast asleep, too. But, as tired as she'd been not an hour before, she couldn't fall asleep herself.

She was thinking about the disastrous dinner the week before, which had gone sour the moment Louise Tonks made her unexpected arrival, and had only gotten worse from there.

 **ONE WEEK PRIOR**

"I've been better," said Louise. She looked stuffy and out of place, which, of course, she was.

Andromeda quickly regained her balance and ushered the woman into the living room, suggesting they talk.

"Was that my great-grandson in there?" asked Louise, glancing back toward the kitchen.

"This isn't a good time, Louise. Couldn't we make plans – tea, tomorrow, perhaps? – and talk then? I'm having guests for dinner."

"Yes, I see that. Who was that man who let me in? Does he work for you?"

"Does he work for… Kingsley? No, he's my…" Andromeda's eyes darted back toward the door. She felt dirty having to explain, like she was caught being unfaithful to her husband, but she tried to suppress the feeling. She had no reason to be ashamed. He'd been dead nearly six years.

"Kingsley lives here," Andromeda said finally. "With me. We're a couple."

"But he's…" Louise dropped her voice, and in a disdainful tone, said, "An African!"

"He's not 'an African,' he's black. English and Black. His father's family is one of the UK's oldest pureblood wizarding… not that it… blood-status doesn't matter, of course. And his mother's Nigerian, which, yes, is African, but… it hardly… it's not a negati… Oh, I hope you're not like the McKinnons!"

"The McKinnons?" asked Louise. "Who are the Mckinnons?"

But of course, she wouldn't know a damn thing about Kingsley's former girlfriend's racist family, just as it wouldn't mean anything for her to know that he was a member of the Sacred 28.

"Never mind!" Andromeda snapped. "Why are you here?"

"I told you, I've just learned the news about my beloved son and granddaughter!"

Andromeda was tempted to point out they couldn't have been too 'beloved' if over five years could pass since their deaths with her none the wiser, but she bit her tongue.

"Heard the news, how?"

"I was out for afternoon tea with one of the ladies from my cribbage game, when I overheard a woman at the next table talking about Muggles and a magical ministry and that sort of nonsense. I wasn't interested until I heard your name and then I could hardly concentrate on the conversation with my friend."

"Because you were eavesdropping," said Andromeda.

"Because I was concerned!" said Louise. "She mentioned a child named Teddy. I assumed this either meant my son had a grandson, or that the two of you had decided to have one of those later-in-life babies. I used to read your newspaper when my son was a Hogwarts student, so when my companion excused herself to the ladies', I asked the women in the next table if I could peruse their Daily Prophet. They looked surprised. One said, 'Certainly, you may have it when we're through.' I thanked her. Upon arriving home mere hours ago, I began to read. According to the article, a man named Harry Plotter-"

"Potter."

"Was seeking to gain custody over his godson, a Teddy Tonks, age five. According to the article, he is being raised by you, and both his parents and his grandfather are deceased. I felt sick when I read it. Deceased! My son! My granddaughter! How could you not tell me?"

"It's been five years since they were killed," said Andromeda coldly. "And over twenty since they last saw you. Frankly, it didn't occur to me that you'd care."

"It didn't occur to you that I'd care!"

Apparently, Louise found this highly insulting.

"You were estranged from him," said Andromeda. "He hadn't heard from you in decades."

"He certainly had!" Louise sat up even straighter and jutted out her chin. "I used to send him money! He'd write me begging when the two of you were too broke to feed your own child and while I never approved of his relationship with you, and while I made it clear I wanted no relationship with him until he righted his relationship with the Lord, I send modest amounts to keep you from the poorhouse!"

This shook Andromeda. Apparently she hadn't been the only one in their marriage with a dirty secret, debasing themselves to feed their child. She couldn't help thinking of the two of them, she'd done better. At least she'd _earned_ the side-money she took in. She hadn't had to beg her mummy and dad for it.

That had to count for something.

"How could you neglect to tell me of their deaths, Andromeda?" asked Louise in an accusatory tone.

"I don't know," snapped Andromeda. "I suppose I was busy and it slipped my mind."

The fireplace flared then, and out stepped Harry, followed by Ginny.

"Oh, hello!" Andromeda leapt up from the couch. "Harry, Ginny, glad you're here."

"Harry?" asked Louise. "Is this the Harry looking to obtain custody of my great-grandson?"

"Harry is Teddy's godfather, and a friend of the family," said Andromeda carefully. "Harry, Ginny, this is my mother-in-law, Louise Tonks."

"You have a mother-in-law?" asked Harry as Ginny said politely, "How do you do?"

"Louise, I wish we could have a longer chat, but as you can see, our dinner guests have arrived, so if you wouldn't mind returning tomorrow, or one afternoon next week-"

"Why doesn't she stay for dinner?" asked Ginny. She was clearly just trying to be nice, but Andromeda wanted to hex her into oblivion for suggesting it. Louise's face lit up.

"Yes, I would like that! I've never met my great-grandson. I'd like to."

"Brilliant," said Andromeda with false cheer. "Wait here. I'll rearrange the kitchen to accommodate an extra... guest."

Once in the kitchen and out of earshot, she sent Neville and Dorcas in to greet the Potters, and pulled Kingsley into the corner to hurriedly hiss to him what had happened.

"I can't have dinner with her, Kingsley, I might kill her! And Harry won't think I'm a fit parent if I've just committed murder over the main course."

"You'll be fine." Kingsley pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "This dinner is important. We'll get through it. Alive. All of us."

"Why murder your mother-in-law? Murder isn't nice," Teddy piped up from under the table, where he was playing with his Gwenog Jones action figure and his Knight Bus.

"Teddy! I thought you'd gone upstairs. Please don't repeat anything you heard, my little love."

"Alright, Nana." He crawled out from under the table. "If I can have a Chocolate Frog before dinner, I'm sure I'll forget what you said about murder."

"You can have a Chocolate Frog after dinner, and only if you eat all of your vegetables."

"Oh." Teddy shrugged. "You know, Nana, sometimes when I have to eat all my vegetables before I get a Chocolate Frog, I accidentally talk about murdering mother-in-laws over the main course."

"Sometimes I think he's the perfect mix of his mother and father," said Kingsley. "And then other times I think he's a miniature you."

Andromeda reached into the bread box for a hidden Chocolate Frog. "Take it up to your room and don't come back down until I call you."

"Okay!" He hurried out, grinning.

"He's nothing like me," said Andromeda. Kingsley chuckled.

Dinner itself started off well. Everyone seemed to enjoy their food. Teddy was cute and charming and drove much of the conversation. Dorcas and Neville exchanged sly smiles and, at one point, held hands under the table. Harry seemed more relaxed than Andromeda had seen him in some time. And even Louise wasn't a total nightmare.

Until the topic turned to Teddy's parents.

"I don't memember them," said Teddy, after his great-grandmother asked what they were like.

"But you remember what we've told you about them," said Harry. "We tell you stories so you know how brave they were."

"My daddy was a werewolf," said Teddy. "Werewolves are monsters."

Andromeda winced.

"A werewolf?" Louise looked to her former daughter-in-law for confirmation. "No! He couldn't have been. Those are fictional!"

"They're very much real," said Harry. He shot a sharp look in Andromeda's direction. "But they're not bad. Remus Lupin was a good man. His identity was not wrapped up in being a werewolf. He-"

"Let's talk about it later," said Ginny. "Neville, are you excited to be returning to Hogwarts again this year?"

"Yes, I-"

"A werewolf, like from the stories?" asked Louise. "Howling at the full moon and ripping people to shreds?"

"My daddy ripped people to shreds?" Teddy looked to his nana, horrified.

"No!" Andromeda assured him.

"He was a kind, gentle person," said Harry. "One of the best men I've ever known!"

"Harry," said Ginny, tugging at his sleeve. "Let's not. So, Neville, you were saying-"

"Yes, returning again this year to help Prof-"

"My only granddaughter married a man who turned into a monster in the moonlight?"

"Yes," said Andromeda, snippily. "But we all liked him quite a lot and it doesn't matter now anyway, he's dead. Neville?"

"Professor Spro-"

"You allowed your daughter to do that?"

"Yes." Andromeda tossed back her hair haughtily, increasing her resemblance to Bellatrix. "Unlike my parents, and Ted's parents, Ted and I felt our daughter should marry the man she loved without pushback from us."

Kingsley stifled a snort, turning it into a cough.

"But you didn't like him, Nana," said Teddy. "You told Auntie Cissy my dad wasn't good enough for my mummy."

"You told him that?" Harry stood. Ginny grabbed his wrist.

"No!"

"She told Auntie Cissy, I said," said Teddy.

"How could you let him overhear something like that, Andromeda? He shouldn't grow up thinking his father-"

"Harry, I'm sorry, he shouldn't have heard-"

"Why didn't you stop her?" asked Louise. "Is that how she died? Did he kill her?"

"Dad killed my mum?" Teddy crawled into Andromeda's lap, his eyes wide and fearful. "Nana, I thought the bad people killed my mum."

"My sister killed your mum," said Andromeda before she could stop the words from tumbling out. "My older sister did it, not your dad."

"Your sister?" Louise gasped. "Your sister killed your daughter? Her own niece? What sort of family... I knew you weren't right for Ted! You corrupted him. Before you, he was such a sweet, pious-"

"He wasn't sweet or pious!" Andromeda slammed her hand on the table, rattling the silverware and making Dorcas jump. Teddy clung to her, his arms around her neck, his chest to hers, with his legs dangling to either side of her thighs. "You didn't know him, Louise. He left your home at age eleven and stayed at Hogwarts over the Christmas and Easter holidays because he was happier there than at home! You hardly knew him as a boy and knew nothing of him as a man!"

"I know that he never would have gotten married at seventeen had you not strong-armed him into it! He told me in a letter that he _had_ to marry you or you family would auction you off to the highest bidder-"

"My family... no, that's not exactly-"

"He married you to save you because even at seventeen he wanted to help everyone he could, he couldn't stand seeing someone suffer, but you stole him away from us, and then, when he finally left you and took Dora to my daughter's house-"

"Herbology is a fascinating field," said Neville. "Do you have a Muggle equivalent? It's the study of Magical Herbs and Fungi, and we-"

"Ted left you?" asked Harry. "Why? Because of the drugs?"

"What drugs?" Louise Tonks' voice rose several octaves. "You're on drugs? Is that why this young man wants custody of Teddy?"

"Andromeda has been clean and sober since the end of April!" said Dorcas defensively, speaking up without first being asked a direct question for the first time all meal.

"Oh, well, how wonderful, some seven months clean and sober!" Louise shook her head as if unable to wrap her brain around all of this new information. "My son is dead, my granddaughter is dead, I have a great-grandson with pink hair..." (Teddy's hair turned blue at the mention of it) "My daughter-in-law is a recovering addict living in sin, my grandson-in-law was a werewolf, my granddaughter was murdered by her own aunt, and my son... how did you say my son was killed during your war?"

"We believe a Snatcher named Fenrir Greyback was responsible," said Harry. "He was a were...uh...wolf."

"MY GRANDDAD WAS KILLED BY A WEREWOLF?"

"We should go!" Ginny stood. "My mother is home with baby James, but I think it's time for me to nurse again. Thank you for having us."

"See you on Friday at the-" started Neville, but Harry cut him off.

"No! We need to talk about this. Why does Teddy think werewolves are monsters?"

"You've just told him one murdered his grandfather!" said Louise. "What else would he think?"

"He thought it before!" Harry stood too, but did not appear to be in any hurry to go, unlike his wife. "Didn't you, Teddy? Your grandmother has raised you to fear your own father!"

"And now she's living in sin with this African man," muttered Louise. "I cannot... if my husband were alive today... exposing the child to that sort of deviant lifestyle, and who is this girl? You said she's an adopted daughter? Adopted by whom?"

"Adopted?" Harry laughed. "Dorcas? No, she's just a child prostitute Andromeda brought home to share a room with my godson."

Dorcas' eyes filled with tears. Neville threw an arm around her shoulders and glared at his friend.

"What's wrong with you, mate?"

"A child prostitute?" gasped Louise. "What goes on in this home?"

"Harry!" said Ginny in a scolding tone. "You didn't have to-"

"He thinks his father's a mons-" started Harry furiously.

"Dorcas is none of your bus-" began Neville, jumping to his feet.

"My auntie killed mummy?" asked Teddy, scared and confused. "But I thought a bad man-"

"I'm sorry," whispered Dorcas, a tear trickling down her cheek.

And Andromeda tried to respond, but Harry, Ginny, Louise, and Neville were too loud for her to be heard.

Having had quite enough, and even though she'd asked him before dinner to let her do most of the talking when it came to explaining things to her mother-in-law, Kingsley stood and got everyone's attention in his deep, calm, commanding way.

"SILENCE."

Everyone was silenced.

"Sit."

Everyone who'd stood, sat.

"Werewolves are like everyone else. Some are heroes. Some are evil. The majority probably fall somewhere in between, with talents, faults, and a number of assorted positive and negative qualities, as most of us do. Nymphadora was killed by her aunt because she and her aunt were on different sides of one of the worst conflicts the wizarding world has seen in centuries. Nymphadora, like Andromeda, Harry, Neville, Ginny, and myself, was on the right side, the prevailing side, the side that wanted peace and valued our Muggleborn compatriots. Unfortunately, in war, there are casualties, and three of them happened to be Nymphadora, her husband Remus, and her father, Ted. Nymphadora and Remus died heroes. Andromeda struggled with the loss of her husband and only child in close succession. She is doing better now. And if by 'living in sin,' you mean that we live together despite not being married, yes, that's the truth, but we'll not apologize for it. We are good people and good parents and we are not going to sit quietly and be attacked in our own home, nor will we allow you - any of you - to upset our children. Now, everyone stay seated, lower your voices, and communicate politely, or you'll all be ordered to leave. Understood?"

They all understood.

They ate the sticky toffee pudding and rose macarons and made polite conversation, mostly about the weather, and when dinner was finally done Harry apologized to Andromeda for losing his head and asked if they could take Teddy home for a couple of nights. To everyone's surprise, she said yes, and sent the protesting boy upstairs to pack a bag with help from Dorcas. While they were out of the room, Neville asked if he could take Dorcas out for dessert - there were still two hours before curfew - even though they'd both just eaten, and Kingsley gave the okay (assuming she'd want to go). Andromeda then asked Louise to please stay so that they could talk one-to-one, uninterrupted.

Harry and Ginny flooed home with Teddy, who didn't whine too much about it (once Harry promised they could join Ginny at Quidditch practice the next morning) and Dorcas was happy to leave to spend alone time with Neville... or perhaps she was just happy to leave, as the tension in the air was still heavier than the pudding had been. Kingsley offered to do the dishes, leaving Andromeda and Louise alone in the living room.

When Louise finally departed, she was carrying a number of photographs of Ted, two of Nymphadora, and one of Teddy, but Andromeda asked her not to return.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted," said Louise tearfully at the door. "But you must understand what a shock it was to learn that my only son... I only had one son... and I know we were estranged, but I never gave up hope he'd come back to me. As a mother, you must understand..."

"I think I do," said Andromeda, feeling a surge of sympathy for the contemptible woman. "I never fully gave up hope of a reconciliation with my parents, either. And I know how it hurts to lose a child. I'm sorry I didn't think to contact you. I should have."

"You had your hands full with the baby." Louise smiled down at the picture of him she'd be taking home. "I'm sorry to have upset him. He seems like a sweet boy. He looks a bit like my Ted at that age."

"He is a sweet boy," agreed Andromeda. "He's my entire world."

Louise nodded. She slipped the photographs into her purse and headed outside to her car, which was parked on the street in front of the house. Andromeda doubted she would ever see the woman again, but a part of her wanted to write down every moment of their private conversation so she'd not forget a single word, then asked Healer Smelthwyck for just one more session. She wondered if this feeling was something like closure. She could use a second opinion.

"Andromeda?" Kingsley ventured slowly from the kitchen, rose macaron in hand. "Dorcas will be home soon. How are you feeling?"

"Drained."

He nodded. "Let's sit on the couch and wait for her. That's what my parents used to do to me when I was on dates at that age. If I was even a second late for curfew, I didn't hear the end of it for days. I think they liked it when I was late, honestly. I think they enjoyed still having to parent me into adulthood."

Andromeda snickered.

"I didn't get to do this much with Nymphadora. She was so bloody well-behaved, she never missed curfew, not until she was in the Auror program, and by then I could hardly complain. She was working. In training. Living her own life."

He headed for the couch. She curled up beside him. They talked over possible repercussions, should Dorcas came home late.

But at five minutes before eleven, there she was at the door, saying goodnight to Neville. He came in to Floo home, and she headed dreamily up to bed, stars in her eyes.

"I'm sure she'll miss curfew eventually," said Kingsley. He kissed Andromeda's cheek. They both chuckled.

"Up to bed, then?" asked Andromeda.

"Up to bed."

 **SATURDAY MORNING**

"Rise and shine!" Andromeda pulled back the curtains to let some light into Dorcas' bedroom. It was eight in the morning and Teddy had already been awake for an hour. He hopped onto Dorcas' bed and shook her.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning-morning-morning!" he sang. She groaned miserably and rolled over, but he pulled back her blankets.

"Time for breakfast!" said Andromeda cheerily. "Eggs, toast, beans, sausages..."

Dorcas groaned again.

"Thick, juicy sausages, and tomatoes, and blood pudding... delicious blood pudding..."

Dorcas groaned a third time, sounding stomach sick. Andromeda smiled.

"A hearty breakfast will help you forget how much you had to drink last night. Come on, now. Out of bed. Teddy will help you."

Teddy crawled off of her and tugged at her arm, trying to roll her out of bed.

"Okay, alright!" Dorcas opened her eyes, pulled back he arm, and sat up. "If I promise to never again be late and never again drink alcohol, can I go back to sleep?"

Andromeda smiled at Teddy. Teddy smiled at Dorcas.

"I suppose," Andromeda said eventually. She closed the curtain over the window. "Come along, Teddy. She's learned her lesson."

Dorcas flopped back onto her back and pulled the covers up over her face. Teddy ran out ahead of his grandmother, nearly knocking into Kingsley in the hall.

"You're wicked, woman," Kingsley whispered to Andromeda as she pulled Dorcas' door closed.

"She's not going to become an alcoholic on my watch," said Andromeda. "And she's not getting pregnant any time soon, either."

"So our parenting style can best be described as, 'do as I say, not as I do,' then?"

"Awfully cheeky for eight in the morning." Andromeda swatted him on the backside. "Downstairs for breakfast now, or you'll have to make your own later."

"I love you."

"Love me downstairs."

She led the way to the kitchen. Teddy was already kneeling in his seat. He'd set out cups, plates, and forks for each of them - all four members of his little family - and the cat food spilled on the floor showed that he'd tried to do his daily chore, too.

"Alright," said Andromeda, going to the refrigerator. "Who's having eggs?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

I realized two things while re-reading. The first is that I have So Many Typos I didn't catch while editing (especially in the chapters I wrote when without a Word program. Yeesh!) and the second is that sometimes Meow-meow is a girl cat and sometimes she's a boy. Oops! I'm going to try to start going back and editing as time allows.

Thanks for reading! And thanks especially to recent reviewers: l **ilikaco, FrancineHibiscus, AstoriaRedfern, KnowInsight, ulalumeterpsichore, sassanech, Banglabou, able-chan, emrldapplejuice, HarryHobbit,** and **Guest(s)**. It makes me super happy to know that people are still reading this fic because I have such fun writing it!

 **-AL**


	35. Part Three: Week 9

**CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK NINE**

"I love you," said Kingsley, staring up at Andromeda. He was on his back in the bed, holding tightly to her thighs, as she moved herself up and down over his erection. He moved one hand between her legs and began massaging her with his thumb.

"Kingsley, I… _ohhh_ …" She moaned and threw her head back as whatever words that had been about to follow his name died on her lips.

"Kiss me," he demanded. She obliged.

As they parted, she cupped his face in her hands.

"I like this," she said, referring to the facial hair he was growing out.

"And I like this," he said, moving his first four fingers in a circle over her pussy, which was smooth from a wax that morning. "Very much."

"Don't get used to it." Her pace slowed; she was getting tired. This position wasn't as easy for her now as it had been twenty-five years ago. "That waxing hurt like being trampled by a herd of starving thestrals who've just spotted a deer carcass. My sister does it twice a month because, clearly, she is insane."

His booming laugh echoed off the bedroom walls. She placed a hand over his mouth to hush him.

"The children are asleep!"

"Sorry," he mumbled against her hand, but as soon as she'd withdrawn it, he added, "If you want me to keep quiet, you'll have to force me."

"Will I?" She smiled and accioed over a silk scarf, encouraged by the glean in his eye. "Would you prefer to be blindfolded and silenced by magic, or gagged like a Muggle?"

"I'm a suspected Death Eater," he answered. "You'll not get any information out of me if I've been silenced."

"Might not get much out of you if you're gagged, either, but I'll risk it," she said as she balled up the silk scarf and stuffed it into his mouth. She sat back on his thighs to examine her work. "Or should I tie it behind your head, which would allow you some speech?"

He tried to answer, but his words were unintelligible. She slapped him.

"Shut it, maggot." She climbed off him, got off the bed, and retrieved her wand, which had been knocked to the floor. She then accioed an ensemble from her wardrobe, a sharp dress jacket and pencil skirt. She didn't bother with stockings. His eyes followed her as she pulled on the skirt and buttoned the tight jacket. She wore no blouse underneath.

"You know why we've brought you in for questioning?" She waved her wand, forcing him into a seated position, then changed her mind and waved it again, pushing him onto his back. She found two more silk scarves in a drawer and manually – without magic – tied each of his wrists to one of the bedposts.

He nodded.

"Are you going to tell me what I want to know?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I'm going to get the information I need from you by any… means… necessary…"

He grinned around the scarf in his mouth.

"Stop smiling. This is no laughing matter, you vile, evil, coarse sprinkling of diseased pond scum."

Had he not been gagged, he'd have laughed at the insult.

"I recently purchased something that might help speed this interrogation along." She went to her bedside table and removed from the drawer the small flogger she'd picked up when shopping at the Fuzzy Minx.

He groaned upon catching sight of it. His hips shifted. His pupils dilated.

He wanted this.

She straddled him on the bed, her knees to either side of his outer thighs, his cock jutted up in front of her.

"You've been very naughty, you and your Death Eater brethren." She swirled the end of the flogger around the base of his penis. "After I'm done questioning you, I shall teach you a lesson about the importance of-"

"NANA!" Teddy's small fist pounded on the door. "NANA, I CAN'T SLEEP."

"For the love of…"

"NANA! I SAID I CAN'T-"

"TRY!" she called back.

"I DID TRY!" he shouted. _"I NEED YOU."_

Kingsley rolled his eyes.

"Go wake Dorcas!"

"She's not here!"

"She's not… what?" Andromeda climbed off her lover, who emitted a small, desperate, muffled whine of protest.

"NANA, I NEED YOU."

"Go to bed, Teddy! Nana is busy having a very important adult discussion with Kingsley."

"I can come in?"

"No."

"PLEEEEASE? I sleep with you?"

"Absolutely not." She threw a pillow over Kingsley's groin area, just in case the boy did manage his way in, as he had that time he unlocked the door with a crayon.

"Then you sleep with me? NAAAANNAAAA!"

"I'll be just a moment," she said to Kingsley, who shook his head in a silent plea for her to stay, but she was out the door and in the hall in half a second.

"Teddy, I need you to sleep."

"Where you going, Nana?"

"Where am I going?"

He tugged her jacket. "Not pajamas."

"Oh! I… er… I have to go… out. Now. Right now. Which means you have to go to bed. Come on." She held the top of the jacket closed over her chest and hurried him back to his bedroom. "If you stay in bed for the rest of the night, tomorrow I'll take you to Honeydukes and you can buy whatever you'd like. Any one thing."

"I want to go to Weasley's Wizards Whee-"

"Fine. Anywhere. But you must stay in bed until the sun is up or you get nothing."

He opened his mouth, probably to whine, but she cut him off.

"Not only will you get nothing, but I'll take Hope instead and get _her_ whatever she wants. If you want anything, you must stay in this bed, all night, until the sun has risen. Understand?"

Teddy thought it over. Apparently either whatever he wanted from the joke shop must be worth having to sleep alone, or he just couldn't stand the thought of Hope getting something special, because he agreed and crawled back into bed. Andromeda hurriedly tucked him in, said goodnight, and rushed out.

Then, just because she was curious, she checked Dorcas' room, easily using Alohomora to bypass the locked door. The girl was, indeed, out. She used a revealing spell to determine whether anyone else was in the home, but there were only three occupants – herself, Teddy, and Kingsley.

"Bloody rotten teenager," muttered Andromeda. She returned to her own room in a decidedly less frisky mood than she'd been in only minutes before.

"Hmmph?" asked Kingsley after she'd locked the door. He was, of course, still gagged. And tied to the bedposts.

"Dorcas is gone, which is bad, but I've bribed Teddy to stay in bed, which is good."

"Mm." Kingsley wiggled his hips, reminding her he was still… ready.

"I don't think I'm in the mood now." Catching his disappointed expression, she sighed. "Fine. I'll suck you until you come, then we can worry about where the girl has disappeared to. Fair?"

It wasn't what he wanted, but it would have to do.

Dorcas had returned by the time Andromeda awoke bright and early the next morning. They didn't talk about the night before except for her to say, "I'll speak with her" and him to respond, "I miss uninterrupted sex" before he headed for the shower and she went down to fix herself a strong cup of coffee.

It was Thursday, less than a week after the girl had been late for curfew.

The week had been alright, overall. Teddy was still having shower-related issues because of the "basalist," but most nights he slept alone. Though Dorcas was grounded over the weekend for having been late (and drunk) when she returned home Friday night, she and Neville saw each other on Tuesday when he and the other young men in their circle 'dropped by' the book club.

"They had firewhisky and wine," said Dorcas. "But I stuck to butterbeer!"

"Good girl," said Andromeda, before sending her up to bed.

"They are seeing too much of each other," said Kingsley, as soon as the girl's door was closed.

"He'll be over on Thursday and we'll speak with him then," said Andromeda.

On Thursday evening, Teddy would be leaving for a long weekend with Hermione, her mother, and the twins. Jean Granger was attending a dental convention in Wales and Hermione had offered to go to help with the little ones; they invited Teddy, they said, because he got on so well with Orlando, but Andromeda suspected they also hoped to give her a break. That night, Neville would be joining them for dinner, after which she and Kinglsey planned to sit the couple down for a talk. _The_ talk.

Dorcas didn't manage to get herself up, dressed, and downstairs until nearly noon, by which time Teddy and Andromeda had already returned from the Weasley's joke shop several galleons poorer. (The boy had expensive taste.)

"Good morning," said Dorcas sleepily.

"Afternoon," said Andromeda.

Teddy was sitting at the kitchen table, painting with his watercolors set, while Andromeda mixed _**pâte à choux**_ dough for the _**croquembouche**_ she was hoping to master during Teddy's afternoon tutoring session. She had her Best Baking for Beginners book open on the counter; she always followed the recipe when making something for the first time.

"Needed a lie-in?" Andromeda asked the bleary-eyed teen. "Out late last night?"

"What do you mean?" asked Dorcas innocently, but she avoided the woman's eye. "Neville and I didn't see each other last night."

"You weren't in your bed at one this morning when I checked on Teddy."

"You looked in on me?"

"Your door was ajar," lied Andromeda. "Did you forget to close it on your way out?"

"I didn't leave through the door, I used the window," said Dorcas. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Teddy, go upstairs."

"But Nana, I'm not done pai-"

"Now," said Andromeda.

He must have realized she meant no nonsense, because he left his brush in the water cup and hurried out, calling for Meow-meow to follow him up.

"I do not appreciate being lied to, Dorcas. Were you with Neville last night?"

"No! No, I swear I wasn't."

"But you were out? At one in the morning, you were not in your bed or in this home."

"I… yes." Dorcas' eyes filled with shame. She sat at the table and stared at her hands, which were clasped in front of her. In a small, defeated voice, she whispered, "I've been using."

" _What_?"

Whatever Andromeda had expected her to confess, it was not this. She sank slowly into a chair, the dough forgotten, and took the girl's hands between her own. She was shocked, worried, and, strangely enough, hurt.

"Dorcas, _why_?"

"I've been… anxious. Neville seems to like me and I like him – I love him, I think I do, I really do – but he's… he's better than me. Everyone knows it. After that dinner, when Harry Potter called me… when he said… when he said 'she just the child prostitute...' I realized I'll never be… to them… to most people…" A tear dripped off the end of her upturned nose. "I wanted a little, to take the edge off. When I first started using, it was… my mother… when I was anxious about being with certain men, she'd give me a little herb to smoke, to 'take the edge off,' she said. Smoking it… a lot of people smoke it… and at that party the night I drank champagne, some of the others were smoking it, and everyone was having fun…"

"They were smoking it the night you had champagne? At a party? I thought you and Neville-"

"We were at Grimmauld Place. Everyone was. And they were all doing it… Well, not all. Not Hermione or Neville. But the others…"

"Did you… partake?"

"No, not that night. But I could smell it… and I wanted to. So I drank the champagne… three glasses…"

"That was not even a week ago. When did you start-"

"Saturday night. I felt sick all day from that hangover. I was grounded. I-"

"How did you manage to get high while you were grounded?" Andromeda was waffling between worry and fury. How could the girl have done anything so stupid?

"You sent me out in the afternoon, to the apothecary in Diagon Alley, remember?"

"You got it at-"

"While I was there, I saw a girl I used to… we were… you know. She still works at the brothel. She's my friend. Audrey. I wanted to talk to her, to talk to someone who understands, so I asked her to get a hot chocolate wit me before I returned home. I thought… I wanted to… I needed to talk to someone who knows me. Who knew me… then."

"I sent you out to run an errand because I trusted you to do so and return straight home. Was I not clear about what it means to be grounded?"

"I'm sorry!" Dorcas hiccupped. The tears were coming harder now. "I felt sick! I just wanted to feel better!"

"Dorcas-"

"An-dr-drom-e-da, I t-told her ev-everything, how I f-feel about Neville. What Ha-Harry thinks of m-me!"

Andromeda waited as Dorcas composed herself enough to continue.

"I told Audrey how nice his friends are when we're with them, but how I think they… they don't like me much in private. Harry wouldn't have said that over dinner if he didn't mean it. And I think Ginny feels the same. I offered to give James a bottle that night because I hadn't had much yet, only half my first glass, and I hadn't smoked anything, and everyone else was… but she said no, she didn't need me caring for her baby. Then Angelina offered, and Angelina was _high_ , and she handed her the bottle and said thank you. She didn't tru-trust me with her baby!"

"Dorcas."

"Audrey said I'll never be one of them. Neville is nice, she said. He's doing me a favor, seeing me. Showing the world what an upstanding person he is, that he doesn't care about a girl's past. It's a favor to Hermione, she said. Because they're friends. Because he's nice. But it won't last. He won't love me or marry me. She said I'm not the sort of girl men marry. Especially not men like Neville Longbottom, war hero."

"Oh, Dorcas." Andromeda closed her eyes but still did not let go of the girl's hands.

"I smoked it with her that afternoon, Saturday, after cocoa, in the back room of the betting parlor. Then, Monday, when I went out to the shops like you asked me to, I met her behind the Hog's Head and we did it again there. She gave me two joints extra in exchange for my pocket money from Kingsley, but she said if I want more, or if I want… want the sort you snort… I'll have to work for it. She has a… there's a man who goes to the brothel. He's been asking after me, she says. He likes me. I don't want to go back, but…"

"But?"

"But last night, I climbed out the window, and smoked one in the backyard, so there's only one left. Just one. And I thought you might catch me, but…"

Andromeda opened her eyes again and looked her over carefully.

"Did you want me to catch you?"

Dorcas shrugged one shoulder. "I might have."

"You still have one left?"

Dorcas nodded, sniffling.

"Bring it down to me."

"Are you going to smoke it?" asked Dorcas. "Or give it to Kingsley? Will he have me arrested? Or… committed? Like you?"

"Go get it."

Dorcas hurried from the room. She returned moments later and held it out to Andromeda.

"I don't want you going to Grimmauld Place if this is what they're doing," Andromeda said, holding it up. "And I don't want you seeing that girl from the brothel. Audrey doesn't sound like she's your friend. She sounds like she's trying to drag you back in. A friend would want you to be healthy."

Dorcas nodded miserably.

"The Elven Herb you smoke is made purely from the dried leaves of the plant." Andromeda used the tip of her sharpest knife to slice the joint lengthwise, revealing fragments of black leaves that looked like oregano. "It is the stem that gets crushed into powder to make the herb you snort, and the berries that get squeezed into a juice added to certain medicinal potions, like those used to sedate patients, but one must be careful, as there is a fine line between sedation and comatose, and too much can lead to death. The berries are the most dangerous part of the plant."

"I'm sorry," whispered Dorcas. Andromeda continued as if she hadn't heard her.

"Both the stems and berries are used in the creation of the version I used to inject into my arms, along with a number of other ingredients – to inject it straight, without the proper filler to dilute it, would certainly be fatal. This, the joint, is the least hazardous, which is why it's popular at parties. But for you – for _us_ , for recovering addicts like us – it is _all_ dangerous."

"It calms me," said Dorcas, her eyes full of shame. "I didn't do it at the party, but I wanted to. And I've wanted to every night since. I want to be calm. I want to forget. I want…" Her face crumpled. _"I want to be the sort a man marries!"_

"Salazar's sins, come here." She moved her chair away from the table and pulled Dorcas toward her. The girl half climbed into Andromeda's lap and sobbed into her hair.

"When Artemisia gets here, I'm going to talk to her about adding you to her roster. If that's alright. Kingsley can afford it."

"You think I need more therapy?" Dorcas sniffled. "Are you disappointed in me? You think I'm a failure?"

"Not a failure." Andromeda hugged her. "After the twelve weeks I spent in the facility, Healer Smelthwyck came here to the house for another twelve, to work with me and Kingsley together. We needed it. And Teddy needs it. And I think you need it. I wish you'd told me how you were feeling and I am not happy about the smoking – I'll discuss that with Kingsley, and a punishment for sneaking out may be forthcoming – but I am not going to scold you for a minor relapse. Considering all that's happened in my life, that would make me a hypocrite, and it wouldn't help you, either."

"Will you tell Neville what I've been doing? Tonight, when he comes?"

"No." Andromeda stroked her hair. "That night… the night you'd been drinking… after you'd gotten sick, you spoke to me. Do you remember what you said?"

Dorcas snuggled against her, nuzzling like a kitten, desperate for physical affection, acceptance, and love.

"I don't know," said Dorcas, but Andromeda, as a Legilimens, knew it was a lie.

"You said you wished I were your mother."

"Oh, that." Dorcas squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like theatrics or big displays of affection. And I know I can't be like Nymphadora, I'm not so smart or brave or talented and I'd never try to be. I'm sorry, I am. Are you upset with me for-"

"I want to be your mother."

"You do?"

"I asked Kingsley to look into it after that awful dinner with the Potters and my mother-in-law, and he said we cannot adopt an adult, which, I suppose, makes sense. But I can be your mum if you want me to be."

"I want that," whispered Dorcas.

By the time Kingsley had returned home from work, the joint had been disposed of. Andromeda had chipped the leaves into even tinier pieces and washed it down the sink, with Dorcas watching. She then let Teddy come back down to finish painting and have a sandwich while Dorcas nibbled toast and Andromeda baked. After the two were through eating, the trio went out to the park for a while to get some fresh air (even though it was cold) which was followed by Teddy's session with Artemisia.

Dorcas helped Andromeda tidy up the house while Teddy was with Healer Bonham, after which Dorcas took the boy upstairs so Andromeda and the healer could speak.

"She needs more help, Artemisia."

"I am aware of that, but I don't know that I'm the best person – we all train in our individual areas, you understand. Prior to hosting group therapy sessions at the facility, I specialized in working with children. War orphans in particular, namely older ones, now students at Hogwarts, most of them. That's my background, my specialty. I only started doing the group therapy sessions because they had a shortage. The one-to-one healing sexually of abused addicts is out of my comfort zone."

"Begging help from a woman whose husband I used to fuck is out of _my_ comfort zone, but I'm doing it in spite of that. Please help us."

Artemisia couldn't help but laugh. "Sometimes I hate you, Andromeda Tonks, and then sometimes I remember _why_ we used to be friends. Sometimes both at once, especially when you say things like that!"

Andromeda smiled hopefully. "So…?"

"I will speak with Healer Smelthwyck. She is my boss, so any one-to-one work I do needs to be approved by her regardless of how I feel about it. She may recommend someone else, though."

"I want the girl to get the help she needs."

"As do I. Teddy is my last patient today, I'm going home, but I'll ask Adelaide tomorrow."

As soon as the healer had left, it was time for school work – Andromeda sat between her two pupils at the table, alternating between helping Teddy with his addition word problems and guiding Dorcas through The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.

"Emma has twelve fish," read Andromeda, pointing to each word. "Charles has six fish. If Emma gives two fish to Charles, how many fish will he have?"

Teddy carefully drew six fish, then added two more, and counted.

"Eight fish?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you?"

"Yes." Andromeda drew a check on Problem 8 with her quill. "Correct."

"I am swishing and flicking but my feather won't move," said Dorcas.

"Let's see, then," said Andromeda.

"Wingardenum Le-vi-osa." _Swish and flick._ "Wingardenum-"

"You're saying it wrong," said a voice from the doorway. "It's Win-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa."

"Hermione!" Teddy scrambled down from his chair and ran to hug her.

"Are you excited for our trip, or just excited to leave your school work behind?" she asked.

"Both!" He grinned as she picked him up. "Bye, Nana."

"Just like that, then?" asked Andromeda, a teasing glint in her eye. "After weeks of 'shower with me, Nana, let me sleep with you!' you're ready to leave me, easy as that?"

"You can have one hug," he said diplomatically.

"One hug, oh, joy." She waved her wand, accioing down his overnight bag from his bedroom. She kissed his cheek and handed the back to Hermione, who set him down.

"We're going to walk next door and pick up-"

"Don't say Hope," said Teddy.

"Hope," said Hermione. "Narcissa asked if she could join us."

"Noooooo!" Teddy threw himself dramatically to his knees. "NO HOPE."

"You love your cousin," said Andromeda, grabbing him under the arms and bringing him up to his feet. "You'll play with Orlando and the girls can play together."

"Fine," said Teddy, but he looked less excited now. He hugged both Dorcas and Andromeda and said goodbye.

"I don't know why he's developed this issue with Hope," said Andromeda quietly while Teddy was just out of earshot, saying goodbye to Meow-meow. "Please send a Patronus if he's giving you any trouble."

An hour later, Kingsley was home, Dorcas was showered and dressed in her favorite jeans and cutest top, and dinner was nearly done. They were only waiting for Neville. Finally, the Floo whooshed to life and out he stepped, looking handsome and professional in a light gray button-down shirt and black trousers.

'Neville!" Dorcas rushed to greet him. He hugged her.

"Evening, Neville," said Kingsley.

Neville looked… nervous.

"Good evening, Minister."

"Kingsley," the man corrected. "No need for formalities."

"Of course. Kingsley."

Dinner was pleasant. They talked about Herbology and the young people's upcoming return to Hogwarts, about the weather, about the Ministry, about the news. They touched on Teddy but did not discuss Harry Potter's decision not to drop his bid for custody.

After the meal, they moved to the sitting room with the croquembouche and hazelnut flavored coffee.

"I've never had flavored coffee before," said Neville. "I love it!"

"Me, too! It's _wonderful_ ," said Dorcas, smiling shyly at him. Andromeda and Kingsley exchanged a glance. Just two nights ago Dorcas had tried the hazelnut coffee for the first time and said it was "not terrible."

"You've been seeing each other how long, now?" asked Andromeda casually as she and Kingsley made themselves comfortable in the two chairs opposite the couch, their backs to the fireplace. Dorcas and Neville both sat in the center of the couch, leaving enough room to fit half a Hagrid on either side of them.

"A few weeks," said Neville. "Why?"

"How serious is it?" asked Kingsley gruffly. Andromeda slapped his knee.

"What he means is, how… _serious_ … is it?"

"Thank you for clarifying, Andromeda," said Kingsley. "I don't know why I worded the question the way I did. Your way was better."

"Sod off," she said under her breath. She smiled broadly at the young people across from them. "So? Serious?"

"Ummm…" said Dorcas.

"Errr…" said Neville.

"We want you to be safe," said Kingsley. "Are you being… safe?"

"Is this about what happened at the party?" Dorcas looked to Andromeda.

"Perhaps," said Kingsley, at the same time Andromeda said, "Indirectly."

"But I didn't get even high there!" exclaimed Dorcas at the same time Neville said, "We didn't even do it because Hermione came in!"

"What?" asked Kingsley and Andromeda in unison.

"What?" asked Neville and Dorcas in unison.

"Are you telling us you've gotten high recently?" asked Kingsley.

"What do you mean 'because Hermione came in'?" asked Andromeda.

Both Neville and Dorcas turned delicate shades of tomato red.

"This isn't going well," said Andromeda, reaching for a cream puff. "Use condoms, alright? I've just decided to adopt Dorcas, she's too young to be a mother, and I don't need another grandchild to raise."

"What happened at this party?" asked Kingsley. "I wasn't aware of a party."

"Some people were smoking elven herb," said Dorcas.

"Yes," said Neville. "That's what happened. And nothing else."

"What did Hermione interrupt?" asked Andromeda.

Dorcas and Neville looked at each other.

"Dorcas, look at me, dear. You can trust…" They made eye contact. Andromeda entered the girl's mind and perused her memory. "Oral sex at a party, really Neville?"

Neville somehow managed to go even redder.

"Are you a mind-reader?"

"Something like that," she said dismissively. "It is wildly inappropriate for you to have being doing that in an upstairs bedroom at Grimmauld Place, especially while all of your friends were right downstairs."

"She's a Legilimens," explained Dorcas.

"Haven't I raised you better than that?" asked Andromeda.

"You didn't raise me," said Dorcas.

"You've been here a few months now, and in that time, haven't I raised you bet-"

"To be fair," said Neville, sitting up straighter and, apparently, finding some inner courage. "Didn't you and Kingsley do the same at that last party at Malfoy Manor? Draco and Hermione's engagement party? You disappeared for half an hour."

"No," said Andromeda. "We were in the library, reading, during that half hour."

"This conversation needs refocusing." Kingsley put on his Minister for Magic face and cleared his throat. "You are young and your relationship, such as it may be, seems to be progressing quickly. We want to ensure it is a safe, healthy one, especially as it is Dorcas' first and she's too young for you."

"She is not too young for him!" argued Andromeda. "But we want to be sure you both understand the importance of waiting, of being safe, and of enthusiastic consent."

"Oh, I know all that," said Neville, suddenly looking relieved. "When I was seventeen, my gran sat me down and told me about all of that. 'The absence of no is not a yes,' and 'use protection' and 'there's no reason to rush.' She was thorough. It was traumatic at the time because no boy wants to hear his grandmother talk about the importance of oral foreplay or how to perform a contraceptive spell, but I survived."

"There's a contraceptive _spell_?" asked Andromeda, aghast. She'd relied entirely on disgusting tasting expensive potions (and abortion) her entire life until the hysterectomy. She wondered if Narcissa knew about it.

"Your _grandmother_ talked to you about the importance of _oral foreplay?"_ asked Kingsley, looking vaguely ill.

"As I said, she was thorough. She had a book, with diagrams. Definitions. And pictures. Would you like to borrow it?"

"No, thank you," said Andromeda.

"My mum didn't tell me anything important," said Dorcas. "She just said to close my eyes and try not to cry. She said they don't like it if you cry."

"Oh." Andromeda's heart splintered, but when Neville reached over to take Dorcas' hand, looking at the girl comfortingly rather than with disgust, she melted a little. He clearly cared about her; her fears about him dating her just to be nice were obviously unfounded. (Andromeda could see why Dorcas was quickly falling in love.)

"The contraceptive spell is not as effective as the potion or, uh, Muggle methods," said Neville. "Gran suggested using both, to be safe. But 'if you have a slip up,' she said, 'you can use the spell.' You didn't know that?"

Kingsley and Andromeda shook their heads.

"Isn't your ex-girlfriend pregnant right now?" asked Neville. "With a baby that might be yours? Someone should tell _her_ about the spell. It's eight-five percent effective."

"Yes, Kingsley, you should tell her," said Andromeda, hiding a sardonic smile. "I'd bet my wand she'd _love_ to have this discussion with you."

"Did anyone have the sex talk with either of you when you were our age?" Neville asked, looking more confident now.

"My mother said 'save yourself for marriage or you're out of this family,'" said Andromeda. "But that was _after_ I contracted a 'social disease.' A few months later, I eloped with Ted and she disowned me. I didn't know condoms existed until after my first abortion."

" _First_ abortion?" asked Kingsley. Andromeda waved a hand dismissively.

"What about you, Minister?" asked Neville. "Did you discuss this with your parents?"

"When I told my mum and dad my girlfriend was pregnant, Dad said, 'Oh, fuck me, we probably should have had that father-son talk.' And Mum cried. I didn't know about the potion yet. Or any spell. But I thought we were safe. I thought a woman could only conceive if she was on her cycle when we..." He shrugged. "Hogwarts only prepared me for so much."

"With all due respect," said Neville delicately. "I think we're doing better than you did. I've never had a 'social disease' and Dorcas' isn't going to get pregnant. We know about condoms and contraception and consent and all of that. We've talked about it, about waiting until we're ready, about being careful when we do. We're fine. Oh, and I made an appointment for Dorcas to see a female healer one morning next week. Do you remember Parvati Patil? That's what she does now. She's very nice. And Dorcas has never been, which isn't good. My gran says a woman should go once per year until menopause, then once every five unless there's an issue."

"I was going to take-" Andromeda looked to Dorcas. "You already have an appointment?"

Dorcas nodded. "We're going together, but he'll wait in the hall. I've met Parvati before. She's nice."

"Well." Andromeda, looking sort of dazed, reached for a cream puff. "Good, then. I'm glad we had this discussion. You know you can come to us if you have any questions."

"Yes," said Kingsley. "No judgment here."

"And _you_ can come to _us_ if you have any questions," said Neville, almost cheeky.

That night, in bed, Andromeda snuggled up to Kingsley and kissed his shoulder.

"That discussion did not quite go as I'd expected," she admitted.

"Nor I, but I feel better about the two of them… together. His grandmother raised him well. Frank and Alice would have been proud."

"Did you see them snogging on the couch tonight?" Andromeda snickered. "They reminded me of us, when we were… new."

"New to each other?"

"Yes." She smiled as he wrapped his arms protectively around her. "I peeked in there after I finished the dishes."

"I'm happy with you," he said. "With our family."

"It's mutual."

"I don't want that baby with Hestia."

"I know, Kingsley, my love." She closed her eyes as he stroked her hair. "Nothing we can do about it now, but wait."

"You told the girl you'd adopt her? I caught something like that during the talk. I thought, after I looked into it, we decided-."

"She wants me to be her mother." She tilted up her chin, staring up at him, and reached up to stroke his bearded chin. "How can I say no? She needs a mother. And I need…"

"You need a daughter?"

She smiled sadly. "No one could ever replace my Dora, but she needs a mother and I am a mother… well, I was… so why not?"

"She's too old for a legal adoption."

"Fuck what's legal."

He chuckled. "Will she be calling you 'mum' then?"

"I might not mind if she did. But I'll not ask her to."

"You're growing quite attached to her, And."

She pulled a face. "Don't call me And."

"Woman." He kissed her forehead. "You're growing quite attached to her. You want to take care of her, and I respect that, but you've spent the last year struggling to care for yourself, and we have Teddy, and if she's going to be drinking and getting high-"

"We reprimanded her for the drinking, she knows better now, and as for the using..." Andromeda half-regretted telling him what Dorcas had told her, but they didn't want to keep secrets from each other, and he'd asked straight out when they were getting dressed for bed (because of Dorcas' exclamation when asked about the party). "I am confident she won't go back to it. There was pressure when she was surrounded by the others, and she said no. Yes, she later went to an old friend, but I think she sees now that the girl isn't truly her friend, and she won't go back. And I handled it well, Kingsley. I disposed of it. I hardly even felt the desire to smoke it myself."

"Hardly even felt the desire," he echoed. "But it was there. There was a part of you that-"

"There will always be that part of me, Kingsley. I've told you. I'll never not be an addict. I'll either be a recovering addict or a using addict. And I am committed never again to being a using addict. Alright?"

"I know, baby." This time he kissed her lips, lightly, unhurried. "I know you're concerned about her, and I am too, but my primary concern is you. Do you think it's healthy, offering to be her mother? Do you think-"

"I think she's leaving for Hogwarts after Christmas. I don't know what our relationship will be after that. She says she wants to return here for holidays, as the students do, because this is her home now, but she'll have her studies and her boyfriend, she has friends, she might not want to come back. I'm prepared for that. And it's normal! She's eighteen. If she were my daughter by birth she'd be leaving the nest around this age - well, Dora took a bit longer, never quite left the nest fully - but the point is-"

"So long as you recognize that she's Dorcas Kensington," he interjected. "She'll _never be_ Nymphadora."

"Stop playing Healer, Kingsley." She closed her eyes again and slipped her hand up the front of his pajama shirt, resting her cold palm on the center of his chest. "I'm not worried."

But Kingsley was worried.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you to all those who are still reading this and especially to **Lilikaco, FrancineHibiscus,** and **PopularCats** for reviewing Chapter 34! I really look forward to reading your reactions.

 **-AL**


	36. Part Three: Week 10

**A/N:**

Due to a glitch (I assume) Chapter One replaced Chapter 35 for several hours for some reason. So if you missed Chapter 35, go back and read that first. Thanks so much to **suziequzie** for bringing it to my attention! How weird!

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK TEN**

"The baby is yours."

Hestia Jones massaged her heavily pregnant belly as she spoke. She was sitting opposite Kingsley in his office at the Ministry. She'd dropped in unexpectedly, much to his annoyance. It was Tuesday and he was in no mood to spend his lunch break having a chat with his former girlfriend about the possible permanent reminder of their summer indiscretion.

"You can't know that for certain," he said calmly, his hands folded on his desk, addressing her as if she were any other visitor, any other employee.

"I spent last week in Paris, at the St. Theresa Center for Women and Infants. They are the best Healers, midwives, and nurses in the wizarding world when it comes to obstetrics, infertility, and other women's issues." She tried to smile, but it was shaky and forced. "They pinpointed my conception date more acutely than St. Mungo's was able to and said it _had_ to have been when we-"

"When the baby is born, look it over carefully, then send a Patronus to tell me whether it's half-black or half-Chinese. Until then, I have no interest in discussing-"

"How can you be so cold, Kingsley?" Her voice trembled, her nose twitched. Her fake smile was gone; she was on the verge of tears. "You loved me once, didn't you? How could you hurt someone you once lov-"

"It is not my intention to hurt you."

"I fully understand that you don't want to be with me, but this baby-"

"Is a mistake."

"No!" She slammed her hand down on the arm of the chair. "I'll not have you calling my baby a mistake. No child is a mistake. Unplanned, yes. Unwise, probably. But _not_ a mistake."

"I'm sorry." He genuinely was. For a myriad of reasons. "You're right, I should not have said that. But being with you over the summer, _that_ was a mistake."

"We should have used protection."

"We should have slept in separate rooms. We should not have slept together. We…" He pressed his first two fingertips to his temples. "It was wrong."

She sniffled, nodding. "But, Kingsley? I still love you."

He took a deep, slow breath, keeping himself calm. She still loved him. But of course she did.

"Kingsley? Did you hear me? I still love-"

"I know."

"And you love her?"

"Yes."

"But you've only been with her a short time, haven't you?" she asked hopefully, as if that mattered. "Two years?"

"Nearly three. Three in February."

"Three." Hestia fiddled with the silver chain of the necklace her mother bought her for Christmas her first year of Hogwarts; it had the Ravenclaw crest on a dangling pendant. "You and I were-"

"But I've been in love with her for longer."

"Longer?"

"Hestia, I don't want to hurt you, but… you've heard the saying about being cruel to be kind?"

She nodded.

"The truth is, I met Andromeda for the first time around 1991, when Nymphadora Tonks was entering the Auror program, and I was attracted to her then. I saw her again in 1993 and felt the same. And again in 1996. And 1997. I was never _not_ attracted to her. But she was married."

"You found her attractive, fine!" Hestia laughed nervously. "What does that matter? Men find a lot of women attract-"

"I fantasized about her on numerous occasions when you and I were still together. Doesn't that mean anything to you? That night I called you by her name, it was not the first time my mind was elsewhere when we were being intimate."

Hestia squeezed her eyes shut. A tear eeked out. _Cruel, indeed._

"I _did_ love you, I genuinely did, but the way I feel about her is different. I've never…" He took another deep breath and tried again. "Four years ago this week, when you and I were still together, she came to see me – she sat right there, where you are – and manipulated me into letting her sister out of prison. The truth is... I morphed from being attracted to her to being in love with her during that one short conversation."

"No," whispered Hestia, unwilling to believe this.

"I later broke it off with you because of the way I felt about her. I didn't feel it was fair to you then, being with you while in love with another woman, and now I don't feel it's fair to let you continue holding onto the hope you and I may reconcile. If that baby is mine, I'll take responsibility, however it is divorced parents typically do – weekends, holidays, financially, I don't know – but beyond the possibility of co-parenting that unplanned child, there is no _us_ , Hestia. There never again will be."

"But when you see the baby..."

"I will not change my mind."

"But you'll be a father..."

"I was a father. And I made it clear to you I had no desire to father a child. I was clear throughout our entire relationship-"

"I always thought you'd change your mind!" Her voice rose half an octave. She swiped at the tears with her sleeve. "I didn't know, of course, that you'd had a child who died. Over five years of dating exclusively, and you never thought to mention-"

"It was private."

"You told the world in that Quibbler article!" She was struggling to breathe evenly. He reached into his desk and procured a clean handkerchief, which he slid across the desk to her. She used it to wipe her tears.

"I'm sorry I kept that from you. But I never lied to you. I told you I did not want children, that I did not want to be a father."

"No, not to a baby with me, but you'll take responsibility for her orphaned grandson and that poor, sad wayward girl!"

Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his teeth. She was on the brink of full on sobbing. He was teetering on the edge of a horrible headache. A Healer told him years ago that these awful headaches were his own fault, for keeping his feelings bottled, for suppressing them, for carrying around so much tension. But he prided himself on his ability to remain calm, even-keel, stoic.

She was testing his ability now.

"It may not be mine," he said, "But if it is-"

"It has to be yours! You _have to be_ the father. The Healers pinpointed my conception date to that fourteen day period. And I wasn't on the potion then. When we were away together, that is. And I didn't use the spell."

"You knew there was a spell?" His eyes widened. Did _everyone_ know about this bloody spell but him and Andromeda?

"It's only about eighty percent effective."

"Eighty-five," he corrected, assuming Augusta Longbottom had taught Neville well.

"Eighty, eighty-five, it doesn't matter! Don't you understand?" She balled up the handkerchief, clenching it in her fist. "I fell pregnant on purpose, Kingsley! I'm _sure_ you're the father. I'd bet my _life_ on it. I _wanted_ this baby. I wanted a baby with _you._ I wanted you! I wanted the family we-"

"You fell pregnant on purpose?" He stood, his deep voice rumbling, but not rising. He pressed his fingertips to the top of the desk, willing himself to remain calm.

"I wanted you back." The tears came again. "I'm _right_ for you. She's not. She's-"

"I cannot continue this discussion with you right now, Hestia. I can't look at you! How could you do that? Not only to me, and to yourself, but to a _child?_ How could you-"

"It's _our_ child! It has to be! I used the potion with him! I used nothing with you. I-"

He closed his eyes.

"I need you to go. I need you to leave."

"Kingsley, please…"

"Hestia!" Now he was the one slamming down a hand, staring sharply down at her. "I would _never_ force a woman into a pregnancy she did not want, but you… you carelessly… you sneakily… you… to me... I..." He let out a growl of frustration. _"I don't deserve this!"_

"No, you wouldn't force a woman into a pregnancy she didn't want…" It was a struggle for her to get up from her seat. She had to move belly first, leaning heavily on the arms of the chair, but she had to face off with him on a more even plane. "But you forced me into an abortion I didn't want! I told you I wanted that baby! I told you, but you said... you said... If you hadn't made me-"

"Do not turn this around on me! You could have kept that child! I told you I would pay-"

"I didn't want your money!" She was shouting.

"No, only to trap me into marrying you!" He was shouting.

"I wasted over five years on-"

"I believe I asked you to leave!" He waved his wand and the door sprung open. "Does my secretary need to show you out?"

"I can find the exit, thank you." She tried to turn on her heel, flipping her hair over her shoulder, but she lost her balance and caught herself on the chair. She inhaled, exhaled hard, and stalked from the office without another look back at him.

"Perfect," he grumbled. He waved his wand again; the door slammed. He dropped into his chair. One of those tension headaches was no doubt on the horizon, unless he could transfigure one of his paperweights into a punching bag.

The office door opened. His secretary stood there, looking concerned.

"Minister Shacklebolt? Everything alright? I heard shouting."

He forced himself to sound cheerful. Or, at the very least, normal.

"Everything's fine! Are you heading to lunch?"

"Yes. Want me to bring you back that vindaloo dish you like?"

"No, thank you. I have too much work to do to think about eating."

"Alright, Minister." His secretary looked concerned, but didn't press it. "See you in thirty."

"Take an hour. You work hard."

"Thank you, Minister! Send a Patronus if you change your mind about the food."

The door clicked shut and, finally, he was alone again.

"Please, please let that baby not be mine," he murmured as he pressed his palms to his eye sockets. _Please let the potion she used with the fiancé have failed._

The Floo in his office whooshed to life. He startled. A select number of people had access to it – the official Ministry living quarters, Andromeda's house, the Muggle Prime Minister, and precious few Ministry employees, none of whom he wanted to see right now.

Thankfully, it was the one person whose presence he didn't mind in that moment. Andromeda.

"Sorry to bother you at work, but-" she said. He was out of his chair with his arms around her before she finished her sentence.

"Thank you!" He kissed her soundly and hugged her as if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. "Why are you here?"

"I had an uneasy feeling, I can't explain it, but I felt compelled to see you so I thought I'd pop in, check whether you've had lunch yet."

"Lunch? No." He waved his wand, locking the door, then closed the Floo. No one could enter or exit for the time being. He then lifted her and sat her on the edge of his desk, parted her legs, slipped off her jumper, and began unbuttoning her blouse.

"What's this?" she asked, confused but not complaining.

"Had a bad morning," he said gruffly. He kissed her, hard. She responded enthusiastically, albeit still bemused.

"You want me to fuck you into a better mood?" she asked.

"Something like that," he answered.

He did not undress, simply unfastened his robe and undid his trousers, but he got her down to a bra and knickers, her jeans discarded on the floor with her shirts. Having no lubrication or time to 'get there' naturally, he used the spell to get her ready, and within seconds they were fucking in his office for only the second time since they'd started seeing each other.

"Four years ago," he growled into her ear. "Four years ago, Aurors arrested your sister for sending me a heart-shaped cherry pie with a knife through the center and the word 'Minister' painted on the handle."

"It said 'Ministry,'" Andromeda corrected him. "I know. I painted it. I sent it. I… oh… yes…" She tipped back her head. "It was my idea."

"I discerned as much when you appealed to me to release her." He thrust hard, fast, unforgivingly, with one hand leaving a bruised imprint on her left thigh and the other on the small of her back. "I wanted you then. I loved you then."

"You've gone mad," she said, but she kissed and nipped his neck and dug her fingernails into his back and loved every moment of this unexpected shag.

"That fucking baby is mine." His beard scratched the soft skin of her neck and shoulder as he buried his face against her. "Hestia was here. She got pregnant on purpose. It's my fucking baby."

"And this is why we're feeling… aggressive?" It hurt, how roughly he was taking her, but she gasped and moaned and encouraged him to continue.

He didn't last long.

She didn't get off.

She didn't mind.

When he was done, he continued to hold her there on his desk, breathing heavily, sweat-drenched. She cupped his face and kissed him gently.

"We'll manage." She kissed him again. "After everything we've been through this year, a baby's not going to break us."

He rested his sticky forehead against hers. "I love you, Andromeda."

"Where's your wand?" she asked. "Clean us up. Let's go to lunch."

Four days later, on Saturday just before one in the afternoon, Kingsley and Teddy headed out to join the new Quidditch Junior League formed by recently retired Holyhead Harpies star Gwendolyn Morgan and her much younger fiancé, current Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum. Teddy was excited not only to be learning to play 'officially,' but because Kingsley had offered to be responsible for taking him to practices every Saturday for the next twelve weeks. Plus, Freddie Weasley would be there.

"All my friends are playing, Nana!" Teddy had whined when nervous Andromeda initially said no.

"You only have two friends, Teddy, and of them only one is playing," she'd pointed out. (Orlando, being a probable Muggle, had not been invited, much to both boys' disappointment.)

"Pleeeeease? If Freddie learns an' not me I won't be a Seeker when I go to Hogwarts like Harr-" Catching her hardened expression, he changed direction. "Like my favoritest cousin, Draco!"

"I'll consider it," Andromeda had finally said, though she's was still very much uncertain.

"They're testing the waters," Kingsley had said to Andromeda later that night, while the two were dressing for bed.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if it goes well, they'll start a real league in the spring, outdoor, on a smaller pitch than the one at Hogwarts, but for now, the children will be in an unPlottable building erected in the Forest of Dean. It's been constructed with padded floors and they'll be using softer Bludgers and an inflatable Quaffle. The Snitch is bewitched to move more slowly than in a school or professional match and the ceilings are only twenty feet high. Players in Teddy's group range in age from five to seven. Upper groups is eight through ten. He'll love it!"

"Ceilings are only twenty feet high," she scoffed, imagining Teddy falling from that height and not feeling at all comforted by the promise of padded floors or softer Bludgers.

"No real danger!" he insisted. "And they'll have nurses on the premises in case of accidents. Plus, I'll be there. He'll be fine." He kissed her cheek. "Let me do this with the boy. I'll offer to help coach, they put out a call for six more adults with prior experience. I could head up his team. It would be an excellent father-son sort of activity."

"You're not his father," she said, but he could tell he was wearing her down.

"Won't it be good for Teddy, having an outlet for all that bundled up energy? Not to mention that learning a sport teaches children how to be good winners and losers, how to work hard to meet a goal, how to play as a team, how to follow directions and obey rules, how to-"

"Fine!" She pulled off her oversized Oxford t-shirt and reached for a flannel nightgown. "You coach his team and he can play. But if he gets hurt-"

"Boys get hurt. He'll live."

"He's not terribly coordinated. He takes after his mother. Do you have any idea how many times she fell off her broom at Hogwarts? She broke her wrist four times in her first year!"

"I'll be there." He kissed her again, this time on the lips. "Thank you!"

"I think you're as excited as he is."

"I might be."

She smiled. "My mother didn't allow us to play. She said it was not ladylike."

"I'll teach you to play too, then." He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "You can ride my broomstick and handle my Bludgers any time. Then I'll catch your golden Snitch and-"

She swatted playfully at his chest. "Kiss my Quaffle, Minister."

"I'd love to." He grabbed her bum. "Where is it?"

Now it was Saturday and the first practice was set to commence.

Andromeda left Dorcas sleeping (she'd been out late with Neville the night before, making it home at eleven exactly) and headed to the shops to buy food and other necessities for the upcoming week. When she returned home, it was two-thirty. Kingsley and Teddy wouldn't be expected back until shortly after four. She listened. Someone was upstairs. Two someone's, at least. She could hear talking.

And breathing.

And the squeaking of springs under a mattress.

"Oh, fuck me, I hope Kingsley is home having an affair," she muttered, not at all excited about the more likely source of the sound. She left the groceries on the table and headed upstairs.

Dorcas' door was slightly ajar. Andromeda put her ear to the crack.

"Is that a yes?" Neville Longbottom's hopeful voice wafted into the hall.

"Yes… _oh…_ please, _yes_ ," answered Dorcas, sounding breathy. "Don't stop."

"Ew," said Andromeda. She carefully closed the door and returned to the kitchen, switched on the rarely used radio, found her daughter's favorite Wizard Wireless station, and turned up the Weird Sister's latest hit.

By the time the young couple came downstairs, it was nearly four, Andromeda had switched off the radio when she could no longer stand modern music, and there was beef stew simmering in a pot on the stove. She was stirring a cinnamon stick in her tea and doing a crossword puzzle in her book.

"Goodness!" Dorcas looked surprised. "I thought you'd gone to the Quidditch practice with Teddy and Kingsley."

"No. I've been home. For hours."

Neville and Dorcas exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

"Hungry?" Andromeda waved her wand and the cabinet opened. "Have a coconut cream-filled Cauldron Cake. They're new. On the middle shelf."

"Er, thanks," said Neville. He reached in and took out two, handed one to Dorcas, then held the other toward Andromeda.

"Do you want one?"

"No, thank you." She lowered her eyes to the puzzle book. " _I_ haven't been working up an appetite."

Neville and Dorcas turned identical shades of red.

"Neville, since it seems you're practically family now, would you like to join us for Christmas?" asked Andromeda. The holiday was just under a fortnight away. "Your grandmother is welcome too, of course. I've always liked and respected Augusta."

"Uh, sure. I'll ask her."

"Good. Sit down. Eat your cakes." She accioed over two plates and two forks. "As Kingsley and I told you last week, whatever you do is your business provided you're being safe and smart about it, which, I assume, you are. Though I'd recommend closing the door all the way next time. Muffles the sound. Just a tip."

Neville, still blushing, sat and tucked into the treat, but anxious Dorcas continued to hover by the doorway.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked Andromeda, glancing up from her book.

"I didn't think you would be home. I never would have invit-"

"I am not upset with you! Sit. Eat. Relax."

"Alright." Dorcas sat beside Neville and reached for a fork. He'd already unwrapped her cake and placed it on her plate. "But we weren't going to be doing that. It wasn't the plan. We were going to go out for lunch, I swear. But when Neville-"

"Dorcas, dear, I do not need details."

But Dorcas couldn't keep her confession in.

"It was the first time! We used protection! He was _very_ gentle! The best I've had!"

(Neville choked on a bite of Cauldron Cake.)

"Dorcas." Andromeda set down the puzzle book and made eye contact. "If you'd like to talk about it, let's do so after Neville's gone home. I don't want the poor young man to aspirate his food and die on my kitchen floor. I've just mopped."

"Alright," agreed Dorcas. She speared a bite of cake. Andromeda chuckled.

By the time Kingsley and a very excited Teddy returned home a short time later, Andromeda had convinced Neville to stay for dinner and Narcissa had popped over hoping for a hot meal, too.

"Severus took Hope with him on an ingredients-gathering mission. They won't be home until tomorrow. He took the dog, too. I'm all alone in the house with Butters and she's too tired to cook because she was cleaning and decorating all day!"

"You made that poor old elf clean and decorate all bloody day?"

"Someone had to!" Narcissa plopped herself down at the table and pointed toward the stove. "Is that stew?"

"Yes."

"I like stew."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "You can stay, you lazy, useless little hermit crab."

"Thank you. Bitch."

"That's an inappropriate word!" shouted Teddy. He climbed up on a kitchen chair, small broom in hand. "Look! I got my own broom, Nana! A Nimbus Tykes 2.0! It's brand new! Kingsley buyed it! Look, it's got my 'nitials on the handle!"

Andromeda looked over the sleek wood. Sure enough, _TRL_ was engraved in fancy script on the wide part of the handle.

"Teddy Remus Lupin! I wanted it to say Teddy Lupin all in big letters, Teddy, not Tedward, but Kingsley said real players do 'nitials."

Andromeda snorted. "It's _Edward_ , Teddy. Your name is _Edward_."

"TEDDY!" he shouted. "Just Teddy!" He hugged the broom to his chest. "Then I really wanted T-R-S for Teddy Remus Shacklebolt but Kingsley said no, just my real 'nitials."

"Oh, Teddy." Andromeda lifted him off the chair, kissed him, and placed him down on the floor.

"Nana, can you marry Kingsley and we change our name to Shacklebolt?"

"That's not how it works, my little love."

"Nana, a boy named Grayson is on my team! I memember him a little. You memember?"

"Yes, I remember Grayson." He was the grandson of Barnaby, the man she was dating when she first started seeing Kingsley. "Did he remember you?"

"Yes! And he is my third best friend after Orlando and Freddie!"

"Third best?" Andromeda chuckled. "Alright. I'm happy you had fun. Go up and wash your hands. And arms. And face. You're filthy!"

He scampered off, calling hello to Meow-meow on the way by. (Thankfully he made no mention of the "basalist." Perhaps he was too excited to remember his latest irrational fear.)

"How did he get so dirty?" Andromeda asked a moment later, when Kingsley entered the kitchen having changed from Quidditch robes to jeans and a jumper.

"For the last half hour, they let the children run around in the forest, like wild hippogriffs. There was some rolling in the dirt. Teddy fought with another boy. But I separated them, it's fine. He wasn't kicked off the team." Kingsley smiled. "Fortunately for him, he knows the coach. Oh, and I convinced Morgan and Krum to let Orlando on. He can join us next week. I said he might have some magic in him, being the younger brother of Hermione Granger, but it needs to be brought out, and that swayed them."

"I hope you're not setting that child up for more disappointment if he turns out to be a Muggle," said Andromeda, busying herself with the bread she was baking to serve with the stew. "Why was Teddy fighting?"

"We'll discuss it later."

"Hope is too young for that Quidditch league," said Narcissa, who was nursing a cup of tea at the table. "She was disappointed. She wants to do everything Teddy does. She loves him. She's such a loving little girl. She says Teddy is her very best friend. Isn't that the sweetest, loveliest thing you've ever-"

"Yes, yes, she's perfect," said Andromeda. "Neville, what would you like to drink with dinner? Butterbeer? Water? Coke? There's no wine in the house."

"Not one for wine anyway," said Neville. "Water's fine."

After dinner, Neville and Dorcas Flooed to the Burrow, where "everyone" would be gathering to celebrate Charlie Weasley's birthday, and Narcissa begged Andromeda to go out with her.

"I've been trapped in my home all week, Meda! Please! We'll go to Jean's to eat treats and watch the telly." (Narcissa had developed a slight obsession with Muggle television as of late. In particular, a soap opera called EastEnders that she had Jean recording on tapes for her to watch while the children played together.) "We're three episodes behind!"

"I don't know. It's late."

"Go out. Have fun." Kingsley kissed Andromeda's nose. "Not too much fun. No drinking."

"I know, I know."

"I sleep with you, Kingsley?" asked Teddy.

"No," said Kingsley. "But I'll help you with a shower, then we'll go over the Quidditch rules with your action figures, make sure you remember everything we learned today."

"Okay!" Teddy hurried up the stairs.

Narcissa headed into the living room to retrieve her winter coat. It was a cold night and snow was expected.

"He loves you," Andromeda said, taking Kingsley's hands and pulling him toward her. "And I love you."

"Show me tonight," he said quietly, his lips but a breath from hers. "We haven't had uninterrupted sex in six months."

"That's not true."

"Six weeks."

"Not true."

"Six days. At least."

"Wednesday morning," she corrected him. "Which was the second time this week." She giggled when he kissed her. "But fine."

But by the time Andromeda stumbled back into the house, Kingsley was sound asleep, and had been for several hours. She managed her way up the stairs, looked in on sleeping Teddy and sleeping Dorcas, then entered her bedroom. She wrestled her way out of her blouse, skirt, and nylons, but found unhooking her bra a task too difficult, so she threw herself on the bed still wearing it, along with a silk half-slip.

"Kingsley?" she whispered. She climbed up his body from the foot of the bed and stroked his bearded cheek. "Kingsley, you awake?"

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Three?"

"In the morning?"

"I'm home, Kingsley." She kissed his chin. "Want to fuck me?"

"You… are you…?" He opened his eyes. "You smell like firewhisky."

"Only a little," she said. She kissed him again and began pulling at the blankets, attempting to uncover him. "Fuck me."

"Are you drunk?"

"Not on purpose." He wouldn't allow her to draw down the covers, so she groped him through the comforter. "Fuck me?"

"Get off me."

"Get me off."

"Andromeda!" He fumbled blindly for his wand in the dark. "Lumos!"

"Kingsley? I snogged a witch at the bar. I had to. Cissy wagered a galleon I wouldn't. Are you angry? She was beautiful. The witch, not Cissy. She was a ginger, but with dark auburn hair, not orange. Her tits were lovely. She tasted like peppermint. The witch, not-"

"Fuck, Andromeda, what were you thinking?" He forced himself into a seated position. Andromeda tried to straddle his lap but tipped too far to the left and fell off the bed with an oof. He helped her back up and held onto her waist so she wouldn't end up on the floor again. She faced him, her hands on his shoulders.

"I used to be able to down a lot more," said Andromeda. "Took only four an' a half drinks over several hours to get me knackered."

"Oh, is that all?" He was fully awake now. And annoyed. To say the least. "I thought the two of you were going to go to Jean's for tea and the telly?"

"Jean wasn't home. She had a babysitter. Cissy didn't want to go back home. We went out. First, shopping. Then, the shops closed."

Andromeda tried again to kiss him. He blocked her by putting a hand in front of his face, palm out. She kissed that instead.

"You've been sober since April! What happened?"

"Cissy wants a divorce."

" _I_ want a divorce! Fuck, Andromeda, you threw away thirty-four weeks of sobriety because your sister waffles weekly between being madly in love with her husband and wishing she never married him?"

"After she was through crying about wanting a divorce, she cried about missing him while he's away this weekend. She doesn't want to sleep alone. Can she sleep here? On my side."

"What, with us? No."

"She's on the couch right now."

"She can stay there."

"She wants to sleep with me. She doesn't like to sleep alone."

"She can sleep with Teddy, then. He doesn't like to sleep alone either." Kingsley screwed up his face; he could feel one of those stress headaches forming. "Fuck, _fuck_ , Andromeda! What were you thinking? You _weren't_ thinking. Fuck. Thirty-four weeks."

"I love you, Kingsley. I'm not too pissed, am I? Are you angry? I love you. Do you love me? Do you still love me? I love you." She sniffled. "I'm sorry."

She was drunk enough not to quite be in her right mind, enough not to be able to walk a straight line, but not so much she was slurring her words or on the verge of passing out. Narcissa, on the other hand, had barely made it through the front door. She'd fallen asleep twice on the Knight Bus.

"You should leave me," whispered Andromeda, as regret suddenly swept in to stifle her alcohol-induced euphoria. "Take Teddy. Take Dorcas. Take the bloody cat. Leave me alone to die."

"Stop with the dramatics. I have no intention of leaving you. But in the morning, when you're sober-"

"I made a mistake." She started to cry. "I threw everything away. I ruined everything. I made a mistake. I made a mistake. I made-"

"Hush." He cupped her cheeks, wiped her tears with his thumbs, and made her look at him. "We'll get through it."

"I ruined everything," she replied miserably. "Oh, Kingsley. I… I ruined… I threw away… I… I'm… I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…" Her quiet tears gave way to sobs.

He held her to him, stroking her hair, lost in thought. His mind was whirling. What now? As much as she'd seemed unconcerned about Dorcas' recent transgression, he was half-panicked about hers. In one day shy of one week, they would be going before the partial Wizengamot to argue that she, not Harry Potter, deserved custody of little Teddy. In one day shy of one week, she would have to testify about her behavior since leaving the facility. In one day shy of one week, just days before Christmas, they might lose him.

"Do you hate me?" she asked through her tears. "Please don't hate me. Please don't. Please, I love you. Please, Kingsley, if you hate me, I'll die. I'll die. Please…"

"I don't hate you," he assured her. "I love you."

"Let me tell you," she said. No, _pleaded_. "Let me tell you, Kingsley. Please, please. Let me tell you what happened. Let me tell you."

"Not now," he said. He kissed her temple. "In the morning. Not now."

Now was not the time to talk. It was not the time lecture her, to be angry, or to discuss whether this relapse would warrant renewed therapy session. There would be time for that later.

For now, he noxed out the lights, helped her under the blankets, and held her as she sobbed "I'm sorrys" into his soft cotton pajama shirt.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you so much to Francine Hibiscus, Banglabou, and sassanech for reviewing the last chapter, and thank you to everyone who's reading this fic! Sorry for the shorter chapter, but so much happened I felt like it would be counter-productive to add more just for the sake of a wordcount. I hope you'll stick with it! Next week, they go before the partial Wizengamot.

 **-AL**


	37. Part Three: Week 11

**CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK ELEVEN**

THE HEARING

Hearings about non-criminal or minor offenses – such as custodial issues or most dealings with the performance of underage magic – were generally not held down in the dungeons of the Ministry of Magic. There was a similar, but less sinister, round chamber on the same floor as the Magical Law Enforcement offices to be used instead. This was just down the hall from the office Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks, and Emmeline Vance had shared before and during the war, as Aurors. Though Kingsley was not keen on being just three doors down from Hestia's current headquarters, he was glad Teddy would not have to testify in the cold chamber where countless Death Eaters had been sentenced to execution after the war.

Teddy was sent to the children's playroom until it would be his turn to talk. Baby James Sirius was being minded there as well, as both of his parents had to be present for the duration of the hearing. Kingsley had cleared his entire afternoon, not knowing how long it would take (or how it would turn out) and Dorcas was scheduled to testify, as were Healers Adelaide Smelthwyck and Artemisia Bonham.

Spectators were not permitted.

As First Witch of the Wizengamot, teeny old Griselda Marchbanks handled the questioning, though other members were permitted to chime in without having to first ask permission. The woman hadn't wanted this to go before the partial Wizengamot. She'd asked both the Potters and Andromeda to settle outside the Ministry, but this was to no avail, thus, she had a job to do.

She started light.

"Mrs. Tonks, could you describe yourself for the record, please."

"Alright." Andromeda folded her hands in her lap. She wore her wedding ring today; the small diamond sparkled in the flickering light of the torches in sconces all around the walls. She wore a knee-length dark blue wool skirt paired with a light blue button-down blouse over a pink camisole, which she hoped gave her a soft, feminine look, but a professional one, too. She wore her glasses, kept makeup to a minimum, and straightened her hair, hoping to downplay her resemblance to her sister.

Even though she was upstairs and not down in the dungeons, this entire situation reminded her not only of the time she'd given testimony against Thorfinn Rowle, but of her own criminal trial when she was unjustly charged with inciting a riot several years prior, after the anti-execution demonstrations Hermione and Neville's group had orchestrated. That time, she was facing Azkaban.

This time, she was at great risk of losing her little boy.

She was much more fearful this time.

"Mrs. Tonks?" prodded Griselda gently, looking upon her empathetically

"My name is Andromeda Tonks. I was born in 1953 to Cygnus and Druella Black. I married my husband, Ted, in 1970. I'm a widow now."

"He was killed during the war, wasn't he?" asked Griselda. "He was Muggleborn?"

Andromeda nodded. "He was Muggleborn, yes, and marrying him was the reason my family disowned me when I was seventeen. After nearly twenty-eight years of marriage, he was murdered. By Snatchers. They never positively identified his killer, though it was suspected to have been Fenrir Greyback. They also never found most of his remains, but there was enough left to know it had been him."

Kingsley winced. This was something she almost never spoke about, and he hadn't realized she even knew that particular detail about Ted Tonks' murder. A darkness came into her eyes, one that unsettled him. She hadn't been well since her drunken night with Narcissa the week before. Too much darkness. Too much resurfaced self-loathing. Too much pain.

"The war was difficult for all of us," said Griselda, a look of sympathy on her aged face.

"Some more than others," said Andromeda, her eyes sweeping across the members of the Wizengamot. "Ted and I were visited by Death Eaters, once. They broke into our home. They made him watch while they tortured me. They did horrible things to me, while they taunted my husband because he couldn't protect me. I still have the scars. But neither of us would give them any of the information they sought, which included keeping from them the other safe house locations where Harry Potter might have been taken after he left our house the night Alastor Moody was murdered." She shot a sharp look in Harry's direction. "Would you like the particulars?"

"No, thank you," said Griselda, looking vaguely ill. "You had only the one child together?"

"Yes, one daughter, Nymphadora. She was killed too, along with her husband, in the Battle at Hogwarts five years ago. She was hit with the Killing Curse by my older sister, Bellatrix, with whom I was once very close."

"Nymphadora Tonks Lupin was the mother of your grandson, Edward, the minor whose custody is being decided today," said Griselda. She motioned to a young man with long hair who was taking notes. "For the record."

"Yes," said Andromeda. "My… _partner_ … and I are raising Teddy together, and earlier this year we unofficially adopted an abused teenage girl, Dorcas. I…" The hardness in her expression abruptly dissipated. For just a second, she looked like she might cry, but she managed quickly to compose herself. "Is than sufficient?"

"Yes," said Griselda Marchbanks. "Thank you. And I believe I speak for the entire Wizengamot when I say we are sorry for your losses, and for the torment you endured at the hands of the Death Eaters."

"Fine," said Andromeda, not one to seek pity.

"What do you do for work?" asked one of the Wizengamot's youngest members, Blaise Zabini. Andromeda recognized him as the son of Zinnia, a fellow Slytherin and former friend of Narcissa. He was a handsome young man, but there was no kindness in his eyes.

"I was employed by St. Mungo's as a receptionist until earlier this year. Now I…" She glanced at Kingsley. "I care for the children. I'm educating them at home. And I keep the house. I cook. I clean. We have a cat."

"And your significant other lives with you?" asked Griselda, glancing at Kingsley.

"But you're not married?" asked a plump, gray-haired woman in the back. She tutted, already knowing the answer.

"Correct," said Andromeda. "And I know it bothers some people that we're not married, but I promise you, it means nothing. We're an average family. We take care of each other. Kingsley is the sole provider financially, but I support him in other ways. I send him to work with a packed lunch most days, I do his laundry and the shopping. Kingsley coaches Teddy's junior Quidditch team. We eat dinners together as a family, we play board games, read to the children, go on holiday when we can. We're quite… plain."

"When you're clean and sober, that is?" asked Jacqueline Morisot, the very rich, very well-connected mother of Euphemia Rowle. She looked to Andromeda with an expression of utter hatred.

Andromeda sighed.

"Yes," she said quietly. "When I'm clean and sober."

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _"Do you have any idea what you've done?" demanded Kingsley, staring furiously down at the hungover blonde half-asleep on his couch._

 _"Is Andromeda awake yet?" asked Narcissa, struggling to sit up. "I'm hungry. I want crepes."_

 _"You're going home." He grabbed Narcissa roughly by the upper arm and marched her toward the fireplace. He tossed in the Floo Powder. "Now."_

 _"Now?"_

 _"Now."_

 _She stepped into the fireplace and called out her home. He followed. By the time he stepped out into the Snape sitting room, she was already curling up on their couch, pulling a throw blanket over her._

 _"Narcissa?" called Severus from somewhere down the hall. "Is that you? Where have you been? We returned an hour ago. I expected to find you sleeping!" He entered the sitting room, but did not initially spot Kingsley. "I was worried."_

THE HEARING

"Tell us more about Teddy," said Griselda. She smiled. She had a nice smile. Grandmotherly. Unassuming and kind.

"Teddy." Andromeda smiled too. She couldn't not. He'd been so cute that morning, dressing up in his little trousers, brand new trainers, and a moss green Christmas jumper. She wanted him to look his sweetest. He'd even agreed to take the stuffed bunny.

"Teddy is five. Six in April. He's a happy child, most of the time, and reasonably well-behaved, though like all children, he has his moments. He's affectionate, kind, and has a good sense of humor. He's not terribly coordinated, but neither was his mother – it's because he's a Metamorphmagus, like she was – and he's being tutored by a fellow Metamorph to learn to control his abilities. He's not the best speller but he's a bright boy. He's learning to write in both pencil and quill, but prefers crayons. He has several friends and an active imagination."

A dark-haired man with a curled goatee cleared his throat and held a finger in the air.

"Excuse me. According to the custodial petition filed by Harry Potter, the boy has emotional issues stemming from a traumatic childhood, the result of his grandmother's drinking and drug use. He has severe separate anxiety, he is afraid to sleep or shower alone, he has had a history of physical altercations with other children, and he sometimes takes out his aggression on toys, breaking or burning them. He sees an emotional Healer at least once per week. Is this true?"

"Well, he… uh…" Andromeda glanced at Kingsley. He mouthed 'be honest.' She nodded. "He can be a handful at times and he did go through a period during which he did not want to sleep alone, but we're past it now. The shower issue developed after Ginny Potter told him a story about a monster in the pipes at Hogwarts-"

"Don't blame his issues on her!" snapped Harry.

Griselda hushed him.

"You'll have your turn, Mr. Potter. Please continue, Mrs. Tonks."

"He has had some trauma in his childhood, yes, starting when his mother and father were brutally murdered within minutes of each other. He was often inconsolable as a baby and now that he's older, he's started asking more questions about who they were and how they died. It bothers him, I think, that he has no memories of them, and I'll be honest, it's difficult for me to tell him about his mother. I miss her. She was my…" Andromeda's voice cracked. She closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself, doing the same old exercise she was taught in the facility: _Wizengamot seats in front of me, Kingsley to my right, the door to the left, a ring on my finger, enchanted windows behind…_

"Are you alright, Mrs. Tonks?"

"He is afraid that the people he loves are going to die. Earlier this year, when I was hospitalized with Dragon Pox, he was worried I might not come home. It was shortly thereafter that we arranged for a Healer to begin one-on-one sessions. It's done wonders for him. He's much better now and it's not even been three months."

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _"Kingsley? What-"_

 _Kingsley did not wait for Severus to finish his sentence._

 _"Your wife wanted to drink and have fun last night and she did not wish to do so alone, so she dragged her sister down with her. Tell him, Narcissa."_

 _"Severus? I'm hungry. Where's Butters?"_

 _"Tell him!" Kingsley again grabbed her by the upper arm, forcing her into an upright position. Severus rushed toward them._

 _"Unhand her!" He drew his wand._

 _"No need for that, Snape." Kingsley released her and backed away._

 _Severus lowered his wand, but did not slip it back up his sleeve._

 _"Andromeda spent half an hour sobbing with regret last night, Narcissa. When she awoke this morning, she told me you'd begged her to join you in the pub because you didn't want to go home, you didn't want to face a night alone. She said for two hours she didn't drink a damn drop while you got tipsy, but after_ two hours _of hearing you assure her one wouldn't hurt, of hearing you tell her that you have 'just one' on occasion with no damage done, she thought she'd take one and nurse it all night to shut you up. She ended up pissed and she also had to drag your sorry knackered arse home on the Knight Bus, as you were too far gone to Floo or Apparate."_

 _Narcissa pouted up at Severus, who was staring down upon her with dismay._

 _"Narcissa?" he asked._

 _"I_ missed _you," she said. "I love you. I missed Hope. I didn't want to be home all alone in an empty house."_

 _"Andromeda said you're considering a divorce."_

 _"What?" Severus looked from Narcissa to Kingsley and back again, hurt evident on his pale face._

 _"We had that little row, Severus," Narcissa whined. "But I didn't mean it. I didn't! I love you. I just-"_

 _"She wants to go out more. To throw lavish parties. To be social. The way she was with Lucius," explained Severus. "I reminded her I hate social engagements, lavish parties, going out. I told her she could go without me."_

 _"And I did! Just as you said I shou-"_

 _"You are quite possibly the most selfish, self-serving, self-absorbed person I have ever met, Narcissa Malfoy," said Kingsley, purposely using her former name. "I cannot possibly convey to you how furious I am. Do you have any idea how badly you've hurt her? She's home sobbing in the shower over how she stupidly threw away over thirty-four weeks of sobriety for nothing, an occurrence we hope will not come up in six days when we try to convince the Wizengamot she's a fit parent for Teddy!"_

 _"I didn't think about that," said Narcissa, her voice small._

 _"It is clear you didn't_ think _," said Kingsley. "Not about anyone beyond yourself, that is."_

THE HEARING

"We'll hear from the child's Healer shortly," said Griselda Marchbanks, nodding at Artemisia Bonham. "But I would like you to address Harry Potter's signed claim that Teddy's separation anxiety and fear of losing his loved ones predates your Dragon Pox; he alleges that this started when the boy found you on the floor of your sitting room with a…" Griselda sucked her teeth. "With a needle in your arm, unresponsive."

Several mumbles and murmurs came from the Wizengamot at that.

"I don't think it's news to anyone in this room that I had a substance abuse problem," said Andromeda delicately. "I've been open about it, trying to decrease the stigma in an effort to help other addicts like me receive the help they need rather than seeing them vilified, publicly shamed, and treated like pariahs even by St. Mungo's Healers. But I don't use anymore. I swear it. I've been clean since April."

"Have you?" asked a woman in the second row. She had long curly blonde hair and wore cats-eye glasses. "According to our information, you had a relapse while a patient in the facility… a situation involving a male nurse…?"

"Oh, that." Andromeda bristled. "I'd forgotten. Yes, there was that… that one time. But I wasn't trying to… to get high. Then."

"A suicide attempt?" asked the woman, leaning forward curiously.

Andromeda, unable to speak, nodded.

"You sucked off that nurse in exchange for a syringe of Elven Herb, didn't you?" asked Blaise Zabini, regarding her like chewing gum on the bottom of his overpriced dragon skin boots. "Like a prostitute?"

"You have a history of committing acts that are just a shade away from prostitution, don't you?" asked Jacqueline, sneering. "Predating your marriage, even. My daughter says you had a reputation, even at Hogwarts."

"How many times have you attempted suicide?" asked the curious blonde in the second row. "Are you suicidal right now?"

Andromeda shook her head.

"How many times have you tried to die?" asked the man with the curled goatee. "And how many times have you traded sex for illegal substances?"

"What made you feel like you'd be better off dead?" asked the blonde. "Have you battled these issues for a long time, or are they recently formed?"

"Uh… I… well…"

"You shagged a nurse so he'd help you kill yourself," said Zabini, not waiting for her response. "So are you mental? Or just a slag?"

Andromeda dug her right fingernails into her left wrist, visualized that last needle she stuck in her arm, and wished she could disappear entirely. She didn't know which awful inquiry she should respond to first. After a moment, she opened her mouth to assure them she wasn't suicidal right now, though that wasn't entirely true, but a familiar voice piped up first.

"She doesn't owe you this," said Healer Adelaide Smelthwyck. "Your objective here is to determine whether she is, at the present, a fit parent for young Teddy, is it not? To do so, I hardly think you need to pick apart her experiences while in the facility, where one ought to be able to expect privacy and compassion. Her medical history is not available for your perusal."

"And you are…?" asked the blonde woman.

"Healer Adelaide Smelthwyck. I run the program at-"

"Healer Smelthwyck will be testifying as a character witness on Mrs. Tonks' behalf," interrupted Griselda. "You may question her then. For the time being, though, Healer, we ask that witnesses not make comments."

"Fine," said Adelaide. "I'll be respectful, but at the same time, I'll not let you cause further damage to my patient in the form of gratuitous, invasive questions meant to showcase her like a circus elephant rather than those necessary for fact gathering. If you want sensationalism, look to the Prophet. This is a custody hearing, not fodder for your Monday morning gossip fest."

The blonde ducked her head, looking sufficiently chastened, and the man with the goatee mumbled an apology. Several other members of the Partial Wizengamot also averted their eyes, or shuffled uncomfortably; clearly those who had been firing questions weren't the only ones hoping to learn more about her than they needed for the purpose of this hearing.

"Noted, Healer," said Griselda Marchbanks. "The Wizengamot will refrain from asking invasive personal questions about Mrs. Tonks' past drug use, facility stay, and mental state, except as they pertain to the minor Teddy Tonks and his care."

Andromeda sent Healer Smelthwyck a shaky smile. Though she wasn't a hugger, she wanted to throw her arms around the woman and thank her it felt good knowing someone was in her corner.

"I won't pretend to be perfect," said Andromeda. "But Teddy is my world and I am committed to being the best parent I can possibly be."

"Not to be… invasive…" said an olive-skinned older man who was twirling the end of his handlebar mustache. "But I do not understand what drives a person to… to do as you've done. Harry Potter experienced trauma during the war and look at him now, an Auror, married, baby. Healthy. No problems with alcohol or addition. How can we trust you won't…" He shifted uncomfortably. "How can we trust you won't go straight back to it?"

"My niece was disfigured by a werewolf during that battle," said a copper-eyed woman with her hair in a dozen small braids. "She has struggled with sobriety since. For some, the scars may not be as visible as hers, but the demons… those are on the inside. And it's not about 'how much' trauma a person experienced, but what a person went through, how they've processed it, and what help has been available to them since."

Andromeda nodded, encouraged. This must be Lavender Brown's aunt, Cecile. The girl had spoken about her in group sessions, but Andromeda had never met her before.

"I realize to many it may not seem that I suffered during the war. Not to the degree that some others did. And it may make me seem weak for having had the difficulties I did in dealing with it. I don't mind telling you a bit about the war… if that would be alright?"

Griselda gave permission. Andromeda took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She'd rehearsed this with Kingsley all week and hoped it would win some of them over just as her Quibbler column had countless readers.

"In 1997, my daughter volunteered to be part of the guard who would accompany Harry Potter away from his aunt and uncle's house shortly before his seventeenth birthday. She offered up our home as one of several safe houses where Potter and those disguised to look like him would hide upon escaping a delegation of Death Eaters and You Know Who himself. Ours was the home to which the real Potter was taken, and from that moment on, our family was even more of a target than we'd been during the first war.

"My older sister was You Know Who's staunchest supporter. She wanted me dead and she wanted my daughter dead. According to my younger sister, Bella referred to this as 'pruning the family tree.'"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," whispered a portly man under his breath. Her name evoked shivers from several Wizengamot members.

"That last year of the war, from the summer of 1997 through the Final Battle in 1998, I was constantly on edge. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I thought we might be killed any day. My daughter was recently married and pregnant. She could not apparate safely, nor could she Morph, which put her at increased danger. When they came to my home, thankfully, she was not there. But they tortured both me and my husband, as I said. I… I don't talk about that, much. Not even with Healer Smelthwyck. Shortly thereafter, my husband had to go on the run. I lived every day terrified the Death Eaters would return and I would be powerless against them, unable to protect myself or my daughter. I was afraid they would do to her what they'd done to me and make me watch as they made my husband watch. After Teddy was born, I helped Nymphadora care for him. We were both in a perpetual state of exhaustion. We slept in the same bed, she and I and the baby, whenever Remus was gone, which was often. She held her baby and I held mine – her – and we only half-slept, waiting anxiously for morning."

Kingsley nearly swore under his breath, but managed to swallow the word.

"My daughter shouldn't have gone to fight that night, the night of the Battle at Hogwarts, but she felt compelled to be with her husband, to do her job as an Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix. Just as she'd said when she insisted we let our home be a safe house, she told me we had to do all we could to help Harry Potter."

Andromeda looked directly at him as she spoke. She wanted him to know. She wanted him to know how much they sacrificed for him. Because of him.

"For a long time, I felt I did not do enough. I felt that I could have done more during the war. But I did what I could, and I did more than I had to. I did not have to allow my home to be used as a safe house. But I did. And, later, I could have given the Death Eaters the information they sought. I knew what they wanted to know but I used Occlumency and sheer will to keep them from that information. I kept my mouth closed until I went unconscious."

"Merlin," whispered Lavender's aunt Cecile, shaking her head.

"In the spring, I did not have the luxury of grieving for my murdered husband. We were not able to have a proper burial. They gave me his monogrammed handkerchief and his wedding band, which, they said, was still on his finger when they found it, detached from his hand. He was buried by strangers out in the woods."

Harry stared down at his lap. He didn't know this, he'd never known any of this. Ginny placed a hand on his knee. She hadn't known either.

"After the war, I buried both the handkerchief and the ring with Nymphadora. I was hardly able to grieve her, either, because I had a newborn to care for, alone. Once she was gone, he was often inconsolable, as I said. He wanted to nurse; there were nights I feared he'd starve to death because he didn't want the bottle, but I held him against my skin and sang the songs my Dora loved and told him a thousand times each day how loved he was. I alone fed him, changed him, bathed him, cared for him, rocked him to sleep. I toilet trained him, helped him learn to walk, taught him to talk. Gave him his baths and clipped his teeny fingernails and read his bedtime stories. I did that, _me_ , alone. And, for a long time, I didn't have a single drink."

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _"You are no longer welcome in our home, Narcissa," said Kingsley. "You'll not visit while I'm at work and Andromeda will not be joining you and Jean for Sunday brunch. For the time being, until further notice, I don't want you near her."_

 _"But she's my sister! You can't keep me away from my sister!"_

 _"Your belief in blood purity kept you away from your sister for over twenty-five years. I don't think a few weeks – or months – will kill you."_

 _"Weeks or months?" Narcissa looked panicked. "But you don't understand, Kingsley. Meda is my closest friend!"_

 _"Andromeda doesn't need friends who hurt her. She's had enough people in her life willing to do that."_

 _"Isn't this a bit extreme, Kingsley?" asked Severus. "I'm sure Narcissa feels awful for-"_

 _"I don't give a bloody fuck how awful Narcissa feels," said Kingsley. "The only woman whose feelings matter to me at the moment is Andromeda."_

THE HEARING

"Tell us what a typical day is like for Teddy," said Griselda Marchbanks, changing the subject.

"He wakes up early. He knows, if it's before the sun is up, he has to play quietly or look at books in his bed, unless he needs to use the toilet. Sometimes, though, he'll slip into bed with me for a couple of hours after Kingsley's gone to work. I enjoy cooking so I make breakfast every morning. On occasion he'll have porridge with fruit, but most days he asks for eggs, beans, toast, sausages."

Kingsley smiled. That morning, she'd been in no mood to cook and offered to take him and Dorcas out before going to the Ministry, but he'd insisted she make eggs instead because hers are better than what the "real chefs" make.

"After he helps with dishes, we dress for the day. He brushes his own teeth, but I supervise because he sometimes forgets the toothpaste or only does the front four. He and Dorcas both have academic workbooks, reading books, and magic that they're practicing; we do it together, generally, at the kitchen table so I can help them. Dorcas was not educated as a child. I don't want Teddy to struggle as she has. Too many children get to Hogwarts with only the most basic understanding of maths, English, and history."

Two middle-aged witches in the first row exchanged a look and nod at this. Andromeda recognized them as the Donovan sisters, two advocates for the organized primary education of wizarding children. She hoped she'd scored points with that.

"Each week, Teddy's Metamorph tutor gives him an assignment and he practices while Dorcas is working her way through the Standard Book of Spells. Being a child Metamorph is challenging, as I learned with Nymphadora. They have difficulty controlling their physical changes, which can cause problems when out in public in view of Muggles."

The man with the goatee "hmmed" at this, looking pensive.

"Unless the weather is truly foul, we spend time playing outside, even when it's cold, because Teddy needs fresh air and the opportunity to run around. We go to the shops a few times per week and his 'feeling Healer' – that's what he calls Healer Bonham – comes once per week, though sometimes she's able to add a second session. He likes to paint, so quiet free time is often spent doing that, and he plays with friends. His cousin Draco's fiancée, Hermione Granger, was working with him on reading, writing, and grammar, but her lessons made him more confused, so we've paused that for the time being. He takes a bath or shower once every other day unless he's gotten dirty outside, we eat dinner as a family, I read him stories before bed. As I said, we're typical. Average. Dull."

"Sounds normal to me," said the blonde in the second row. "But Harry Potter alleges-"

"Harry Potter's heart is in the right place," said Andromeda, though it pained her to do so. This had also been rehearsed. "He saw the anguish it caused Teddy over the twelve weeks we were apart, when I was in the facility. And it's true that Teddy suffered from seeing me in the state in which I was found that awful morning shortly before the fifth anniversary of my daughter's murder. Harry, as Teddy's godfather, wants what's best for him, and I appreciate that. I'm glad he loved Teddy and I am grateful for all of the time they've spent together, the wonderful relationship they have. But Harry seems unwilling, or, perhaps, unable, to recognize all of the work I've done since Kingsley had me committed. I won't ever again be the way I was before. I wish Harry could trust me on that."

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _Kingsley returned home still feeling absolutely furious with Narcissa and not all that happy with Severus, either, even though it wasn't the man's fault he didn't have any desire to go out or host parties._

 _He found Andromeda still in the shower where he'd left her, sitting on the floor, scrubbing her skin with unnecessary force. He stripped off his robe and pants and stepped in._

 _"Stand up," he said gently, reaching his hand down to help her. She took it._

 _"All these months, clean, sober. And I told myself 'just one' wouldn't hurt. That's how it always starts, Kingsley. 'Just one' sip during a toast. 'Just one' bottle of cooking sherry in the kitchen. 'Just one' syringe filled with-"_

 _"This isn't the end of your sobriety, Andromeda. You're still clean. And we have no cooking sherry. And there won't be any champagne toasts. Yesterday, you were over thirty-four weeks sober. Today, you're one day sober. We restart the clock, that's all. But nothing's lost."_

 _Andromeda stroked his cheek, rubbing her thumb over the soft, wet hair there._

 _"I don't understand how you love me, Kingsley Shacklebolt."_

THE HEARING

Harry leaned close to the heavyset, blue-eyed man to his left and murmured something. The man nodded.

"But this was sent to Harry Potter via owl just days ago," said the man. He held a photograph out toward Griselda, who took it, looked it over, and raised her eyebrows. "Could Mrs. Tonks explain it, please. According to the note on the back, it was taken less than one week ago."

Andromeda's heart fell into her stomach.

Griselda handed her the photograph.

It was of Andromeda in the pub one day shy of one week prior, snogging that auburn-haired witch, a glass of firewhisky in her left hand, her right entangled in the woman's soft hair.

"One of my teammates was there," said Ginny almost apologetically. "She took the picture and sent it to us. She said you were drunk, Andromeda."

"I'm not perfect," said Andromeda quietly. It was an understatement and they all knew it. She sniffled. _Fuck_. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

After this, both Healers were given the opportunity to speak, and despite the revelation that she'd been drinking both said they thought keeping Teddy in her custody was for the best, though when asked, Healer Smelthwyck said she was not opposed to resuming Andromeda's outpatient therapy.

Then Ginny was questioned. She spoke of their loving, happy home, the way they were raising baby James Sirius, their jobs, their past, their relationship. She made no mention of the joints they were enjoying with their friends recently and when Kingsley demanded to know whether Elven Herb was ever smoked in their home, she looked surprised and said, "Why would we do that? We're parents!"

"But you have parties, don't you?" he asked. "And at these parties…"

"We're not drug abusers," Ginny had said testily. "Teddy is safe with us."

Kingsley was going to press the matter, as she hadn't technically answered the question, but Griselda Marchbanks reminded him that he was not permitted to ask questions, despite being a member of the Wizengamot by virtue of being Minister, because it was an obvious conflict of interest.

Kingsley was questioned too, of course, and described their lives and home much the same way Andromeda had. Typical. Average. Dull. He was asked how long he and Andromeda had been seeing each other and how long they'd been living together.

"I want to marry her," he said. "I would marry her tomorrow."

"According to the Prophet, you're quite possibly expecting a baby with Hestia Jones, your former assistant," said the goateed man. "While I appreciate that you love your… Mrs. Tonks… it is difficult to believe your relationship is as healthy as you claim, with that considered."

"That was a mistake," said Kingsley. "A momentary lapse in judgement."

"Oh," said the man. "A lapse in judgement. A mistake. Like her drinking just last week. Not meant to happen. I see."

Andromeda reached up as if scratching the back of her neck and pulled out three or four strands of hair, a habit she'd thought she'd left behind at the facility. By the time Kingsley's questioning was over, she was well on her way to forming a new small bald spot.

Dorcas was asked very few questions, mostly just to confirm what Kingsley and Andromeda had already said, and about her own drinking and drug use.

"I only drank that one time," said Dorcas. "At Harry and Ginny's house. Everyone was doing it. I wanted to fit in." She ducked her head, hiding behind her hair. "Andromeda said champagne makes women sick, though, so I'll never do it again. I won't drink anything again. I didn't like it."

"You were drinking at Harry and Ginny's house?" asked one of the Donovan sisters.

Dorcas nodded.

"They had a party. They're friends with Neville. He's my… my boyfriend."

"Does your boyfriend spend the night?" asked Jacqueline, Euphemia's mum.

"Never!" said Dorcas, looking scandalized, which almost made Andromeda chuckle, considering the girl's past. "Andromeda wants me to set a good example for Teddy, so I study and read and keep my room clean, and I'm home by curfew every night, and I don't drink – except that one night with the champagne. I'm in a book club, I'm learning basic spells, and I'm going back to Hogwarts soon, to study under Madam Pomfrey! Andromeda has been very good to me. She's the mother I always wanted. I want to be good for her. I want her to be proud of me."

Andromeda wanted to rush onto the dais and scoop the girl into her arms like as small child. Instead, she spoke softly.

"I _am_ proud of you, Dorcas."

Harry was the last adult to testify.

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _"What happened last night?" asked Dorcas while she was helping Andromeda clean the kitchen. She'd never seen her surrogate mother in such a frenzy. The woman had taken everything out of every cabinet and was cleaning and organizing and rearranging as if her life depended on it._

 _Kingsley was sitting on the living room floor playing with Quidditch action figures with Teddy while Meow-meow watched from the arm of the couch._

 _"I got pissed, Dorcas." Andromeda couldn't look at her. "It never stops being a struggle, sobriety. But I have higher hopes for you than I've ever had for myself."_

 _"Neville says he thinks Kingsley did the right thing, back in April. When he… when he put you in the facility without your permission. We… we talked about it, after… after I was through being grounded for that night at the party. He asked if I'd gone to the facility because someone forced me and I said no, I wanted to do it. I asked if he'd ever have me committed like Kingsley did you, and he said, 'If I thought it would save your life, in a heartbeat, I'd do it.' Do you think it was right for Kingsley…?"_

 _"I think he did it because he loves me and he knew I was… I was lucky to wake up from that one." She put down a jar of pickled beets and turned to face Dorcas. "I was angry at the time but I'm glad he did it. If he hadn't, there's no doubt in my mind I wouldn't have survived through the summer."_

THE HEARING

"I appreciate all Andromeda did for him as a baby. I know it can't have been easy raising him after all that happened. I feel for her, I really do." Harry looked upon her with pity. "But it's not about her. It's not about me. It's about Teddy. I grew up in a rotten home. I want better for my godson. And I know Remus and Tonks would have wanted better, too. I'm not trying to steal him away from her. She will always be his grandmother. But children need healthy parents, stable homes. They need to be safe and happy. They shouldn't go to bed at night afraid they'll wake in the morning to find their caregiver dead in front of the fireplace with a needle in her arm!"

"I hate him," Andromeda said in a voice so low only Kingsley, sitting beside her, could hear.

The only one left to take the stand, so to speak, was Teddy.

 _LAST SATURDAY_

 _"Nana, we can go to the park?" Teddy bounded into the kitchen as Andromeda and Dorcas were putting away the last of the cans of boxes. "I want to swing."_

 _"Is it alright with Kingsley?" she asked as he entered the room behind the boy, two empty Butterbeer bottles in hand. He placed them in the sink and kissed her cheek._

 _"You're not grounded, woman. If you want to go to the park, go."_

 _"Will you go?" It was irrational, she knew, but a weird part of her felt like if she went out without a responsible adult, even if it was to take Teddy to play, she would be drunk before she returned._

 _"Let's go together. Dorcas?"_

 _"Neville should be here any minute."_

 _"We'll wait for Neville, then," decided Kingsley. "And we'll all go. Then we'll have dinner out, maybe the Indian place near the park. I'm in the mood for butter chicken."_

 _"That would be nice," said Andromeda softly, smiling at him. She really had gotten lucky, landing the Minister for Magic. And it boggled her mind that he felt he'd gotten lucky for finding her, too._

 _"Teddy, come upstairs with me," said Dorcas, holding out her hand for him to take. "We need to look for your snowsuit."_

THE HEARING

Teddy was too small for the chair. His feet swung back and forth, and he cuddled that bunny like a professional bunny cuddler. His hair was down to his shoulders in loose, dark ringlets, and, smiling, he waved at his Nana after Kingsley helped him up into the tall seat.

"Could you tell us your full name?" asked Griselda Marchbanks.

"Tedward Remus Lupin," he said.

" _Edward_ ," corrected Andromeda.

"TEDDY!" shouted Teddy, throwing up his hands and almost dropping the bunny. "Oops."

"Teddy, how old are you?"

"Five years and eight months and one week and… how many days, Nana?"

"Five years is fine for the record," said Griselda, smiling her grandmotherly smile. "Teddy, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do for fun?"

"Quidditch?" He looked at Andromeda. They'd practiced answers to a lot of questions, but "what do you like to do for fun" wasn't one of them.

"You play in the new Junior League?"

"Yes. We had one practice already plus again tomorrow. Kingsley is my coach!" He waved at Kingsley. "Hi, Kingsley."

"Hi, Teddy," said Kingsley, smiling back.

"Kingsley is the best coach," said Teddy.

"Teddy, do you know what happened to your mother and father?" asked Griselda gently. Teddy's smile melted away.

"They died. In the war. When I was a baby. I don't memember them."

"You were too small to remember him," she said. "Who do you live with?"

"My nana and my Kingsley. They love me the best. See, over there." He pointed at them. "I love them the best, too."

Several Wizengamot members awwwed. The kid could certainly be charming.

"Also in my house is Dorcas and Meow-meow. Meow-meow is my cat who says her own name because she says, 'Meow, meow!' when she wants food or her littler box is too dirty."

"Litter box?" asked Cecile Brown.

"Yeah, littler box. That's what I said." He looked at Griselda. "Do I have to be louder? Maybe they can't hear in the back."

"You're loud enough, dear." Griselda was hiding smile. Several of the Wizengamot members were smiling too. He was sweet.

Adorable.

Perfect.

"Are you happy where you live, Teddy?"

"Yes! Except when Hope comes. She's my cousin and she's small and obnoxious and she tries to kiss me on my cheeks and says we have to play wedding like Hermione and Draco. I don't want to play Draco. I don't want to marry stupid Hope. I want to play Quidditch and gobstones and Death Eater Order Battle."

"Ohhh," said Andromeda quietly. Perhaps that was why he'd been on an anti-Hope kick lately. Thanks to Narcissa's help planning Draco's upcoming nuptials, the toddler had developed a love of all things wedding and wanted her cousin for her betrothed.

"What's Death Eater Order Battle?" asked Blaise Zabini.

"I get to be the Order, my mum or Kingsley or Harry Potter, and Hope – or Orlando, when he's over – has to be the Death Eater like Bellatrix The Strange or Voldemort." (There were a couple of gasps at the Dark Lord's name, and one giggle at the butchering of Bella's.) "Then, we battle. And the Order always wins." Teddy swung his feet faster. "Hope does not like to play the Death Eater. Her daddy has the Dark Mark."

"What?" asked one of the Donovan sisters, looking concerned.

The blonde shook her head.

"Severus Snape," she explained. "Not a _real_ Death Eater."

(Andromeda did not see the need to point out that he was, indeed, a _real_ former Death Eater.)

"Teddy, your godfather Harry tells us you're afraid to sleep by yourself sometimes. Why is that?"

Teddy's swinging feet stilled. He hugged the bunny. "I don't know."

"Could you guess?" asked a young woman with an Afro who, thus far, hadn't asked any questions.

Teddy shrugged. "I like to sleep with Nana. I don't want her to go away."

"Are you worried about her going away?" asked the young woman.

Teddy shrugged again. "One time, she did."

"Tell us about that, Teddy," said Griselda. She glanced at Artemisia. "If you think it's alright."

"Teddy, Madam Marchbanks wants to know about the morning Nana was sick," said Healer Bonham. "Could you tell her what happened?"

"Oh." He hugged the bunny tighter. "I waked up and Nana was not in her bed. I goed downstairs. She was on the floor. She would not wake up. I tried to wake her up. I even called her Mummy because sometimes I pretend she's my mummy even though she's not my mummy." His little nose twitched. Andromeda squeezed Kingsley's hand. "But she did not wake up, so I goed to get Kingsley at the Ministry. I used the Floo Network. I'm a good Floo-er!" He tried to smile. "Kingsley came and said I saved my nana. He taked her to St. Mungo's and a lady stayed with me until Auntie Cissy came. Then Nana stayed a long time to a faculty and got better because she loves me."

"Facility," corrected Healer Bonham.

"Facility," echoed Teddy.

"How has life been since Nana came home?" asked Griselda. Teddy brightened.

"Good! Nana does not get sick like before when she used to wake up too slow or have a headache. I gived her Dragon Pox though and then she was sick but now she's better. Dragon Pox was itchy. I have a spot that didn't go away, see?" He tried to pull up the leg of his trousers so they could see the splotch above his knee, but Griselda told him they believed him.

"I really want a brother but I can't get a brother, so Dorcas is like a sister which is good too even though I want a brother more. And Nana gived me Meow-meow. We do school work that I don't like much but Nana says it's important to grow up smart and study hard. Nana reads the best bedtime stories. And Kingsley is a good not-dad."

"A good not-dad?"

"He's good but he says he's not my dad, not even if he marries Nana and I don't change my name, so he's a not-dad, but it's okay to pertend like with Therapy Cats and the baby cat that died and also it's okay to take a shower with him that one time 'cept mostly I'm too big and take my own shower with not my shirt on and he letted me sleep with him when Nana was sick with Dragon Pox so that is like a dad but not which means a not-dad. Plus, he's my Quidditch coach!"

"What?" asked the man with the goatee, who, apparently, didn't speak Five-Year-Old.

"That boy at football that one time said Kingsley can't be my dad so I beated him up and then they said I can't go back because we use our words but my feelings Healer said that was very wrong for him to bully even though it's not okay to kick kids in the face so I don't do that anymore 'cept last week when I fighted that boy Grayson at Quidditch because he said something about my nana but then we maked up after and now he's my third best friend."

"I honestly cannot make heads or tails of what the boy is saying," said the goateed man, sounding frustrated.

Healer Bonham offered to translate.

"Yeah," said Teddy, when she was through. "That's what I said!" He leaned close to Griselda and whispered, "Should I be louder?"

Ten minutes later, Griselda told Teddy she had just one more question for him.

"Would you rather live with the Potters, or with your grandmother?"

"Nana and Kingsley!" shouted Teddy, throwing the bunny up in the air. Griselda caught it and handed it back.

"Why Nana and Kingsley?" she asked.

"Because Harry Potter's just my godfather," said Teddy, as if it should be obvious. "Nana is my mummy."

Andromeda covered her face. She did not want to cry, not in front of all these people. And certainly not in front of Teddy.

And then the hearing was drawing to a close.

"Alright," said Madam Marchbanks. "As is custom, we'll put it to a vote. All those in favor of keeping the custody situation as is, which means leaving the boy with his grandmother, raise your hands.

Six… seven… eight people.

But no.

No, that couldn't be.

"All in favor of awarding full legal and physical custody of the minor Edward Lupin to his godfather, Harry Potter?"

Ten… eleven… twelve. Twelve people.

No.

"Then it's settled." Griselda shot an extremely apologetic and sorrowful look in Andromeda's direction. (She'd voted for him to remain.)

"The partial Wizengamot has spoken. From here out, Edward Remus 'Teddy' Lupin is the legal ward of Harry and Ginevra Potter. You have thirty days to appeal, Mrs. Tonks. If you don't, or if the appeal is denied, Harry and Ginny Potter may begin formal adoption proceedings after a period of six months has passed, starting from this date, the nineteenth of December, 2003."

"No," whispered Andromeda.

"Nana?" asked Teddy, looking to her with worry. He clutched the bunny as if for dear life. His hair went natural, mousy brown, and his nose twitched. "What's that mean, Nana?"

"Please, don't do this," said Andromeda softly, calmly. Much calmer than she felt.

"This hearing is adjourned. Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, you may take Teddy home now."

"What? No!" Teddy hopped down off the tall chair, landing badly and falling to his knees, but he scrambled to his feet quickly. "Nana?"

"Come on, Teddy." Without looking toward Andromeda, Harry lifted the boy onto his hip. "We're going home."

"Why?" asked Teddy, looking over Harry's shoulder at his grandmother.

"You're going to live with us now," said Ginny, smiling uneasily. Andromeda, as a Legilimens, knew the woman hadn't expected to win. Hadn't even _wanted_ to. But she wasn't going to tell her husband as much. She'd thought the Wizengamot would do it for her. Apparently she was no longer the same Ginny Weasley who'd fought against Bellatrix Lestrange in the Final Battle. Apparently marriage – or, perhaps, motherhood – had made her a coward.

Andromeda had no use for cowards.

"Nana?" asked Teddy, sounding panicked. He started to cry. He reached toward her. "Nana!"

"Teddy!" Summoning up all the strength she had left, she hurried up from her seat. "Stop, please, Harry. Let me… let me say goodbye." It took everything that was in her not to scream, not to cry, not to hex that Boy Who Lived into oblivion. She cradled Teddy's tearstained face in her hands.

"Nana?" he whispered. "I want you."

"You're going to stay with Harry and Ginny awhile, my little love. They'll take good care of you. You'll have fun at Grimmauld Place, with baby James. Like having a little brother."

"I don't want a brother. I want you."

"Harry and Ginny will play Quidditch with you and read your bedtime stories and…" She almost added, "And let you sleep with them every single night!" just to be a bitch, but instead she said, "And love you very, very much." She kissed his nose.

"Come on, Teddy," said Harry, hugging him. "This is for the best, you'll see. And you can have supervised visits with your nana!"

"Supervised?" asked Kingsley, who'd joined them in the center of the room.

Most of the Wizengamot had filed out. Only Griselda Marchbanks, Lavender's aunt Cecile, and the Donovan sisters remained.

"It's better this way," said Harry. "Say goodbye to Nana, Teddy. We'll see her soon!"

"Nana?" Again, Teddy reached for her, grasping her hair. Andromeda had to pry his little fingers open and step back.

"You'll love your time with Harry and Ginny, Teddy," she said, hoping she sounded and looked considerably more positive than she felt. "I'll send over some of your toys and your clothes and your broom so you'll feel right at home. And I'll see you soon, I promise. It's going to be alright."

"We'll be in touch about a visit," said Harry, who was struggling to hold Teddy now that the boy was fighting to get down. "I'll send Kreacher for his things tomorrow morning."

Harry turned and headed for the door.

"We'll take good care of him," said Ginny quietly, before rushing to catch up with her husband.

"No!" shouted sobbing Teddy. "No, Nana! NANA!"

From the hall, he continued to scream her name. _"NANA! NANA, I WANT YOU!_ _NANA!"_

"Kingsley," said Andromeda, her voice small. Weak. Her knees were weak, too. Her entire body suddenly felt weak. "I lost him, Kingsley. I want to die."

Her face crumpled and her knees gave out.

"I know." He wrapped his arms around her from behind. He kept his arms around her body; he was not going to let her fall. She was heartbroken, rightfully so, but _he_ was furious. _Livid_. This should have gone in their favor. Had she not been drinking last week. Had they asked Ginny about the joint smoking at her home. Had he not knocked up Hestia. Had he bloody married her at some point, instead of just living together. Had he not had her committed in the first place. Had he gotten her help so much sooner.

He scooped despondent Andromeda into his arms. She clutched at the front of his robe and cried into his shoulder.

"Griselda?" He was going to tell the woman they were headed home and not to expect him back until Monday, but she spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Kingsley. I'm terribly sorry."

"As am I. We're going home. Come along, Dorcas." He began carrying Andromeda toward the far end of the room, where a door led to a small waiting room in which there was a fireplace connected only to the one in his office. They could Floo home from there.

"Kingsley!" Healer Smelthwyck had been engaged in hushed conversation with Healer Bonham, but she broke away to chase after him.

He waited for her.

"Tomorrow, I'd like to… to come by. I think she'll need help." She brushed back Andromeda's hair. "Is that alright, Andromeda? Tomorrow?"

Andromeda barely managed a nod.

"Alright," said Healer Smelthwyck.

"You can appeal," called Cecile Brown, the only other Wizengamot member still in the room. "Thirty days."

"Monday," said Griselda. "Do it then."

"Yes, thank you, Griselda, Cecile." Kingsley looked to Adelaide. "I need to get her home."

"Don't let her drink, Kingsley. She may want to – or worse. And you may want to. You both may feel sobriety is pointless, considering, but it's not the way to-"

"I know. We'll see you tomorrow." He stepped through the door into the waiting room.

Tomorrow.

Day eight of her sobriety.

Day one without Teddy.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Welcome to new readers, including **zrose**! And thanks so much for letting me know your thoughts, **KnowInsight, ulalumeterpsichore, Banglabou, FrancineHibiscus, sassanech,** and **Popular Cats.** I appreciate everyone who is reading this fic! It's very personal and I love knowing that others are invested in Andromeda's situation. Only one week left until the end of Part Three (and Christmas).

 **-AL**


	38. Part Three: Week 12

**CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT**

 **PART THREE: END OF WEEK TWELVE**

WEDNESDAY

24 DECEMBER, 2003

DAY FIVE WITHOUT TEDDY

It was after ten in the morning and they were in bed, having a lie-in. If it could be called a lie-in, considering she spent most of every day in bed. He'd taken the week off, using his holiday time, though of course, being the Minister for Magic, there was no real time off – he was still needed, and they could still reach him. But unless there was an emergency that required his presence, he was staying home.

"How are we supposed to have Christmas?" Andromeda asked Kingsley. "It won't be Christmas without him."

"I don't know."

He held her and stroked her hair and let her cry into his pajama shirt, as he had every morning since they'd lost custody of her grandson. She was barely functioning, but she wasn't drinking or getting high, and that had to count for something.

Dorcas was doing her best to be helpful, cooking the meals Andromeda had been teaching her, making sure her 'unofficially adoptive' mother ate at least once per day (more if she could manage it), and caring for the cat. She'd been the one to gather Teddy's favorite books and toys and clothes to send to Grimmauld Place with Kreacher on Saturday, while Andromeda and Kingsley were with Healer Smelthwick in the sitting room. She also took charge of the laundry, the shopping (not that there was much they needed to buy), and the cleaning. She was a little Andromeda.

Kingsley spent most of his time tending to Andromeda personally, holding her, carrying her into the shower and washing her hair, sometimes even spoon feeding her soup when she was too weak and despondent to eat. He and Dorcas, and sometimes Neville, shared quiet dinners together every night while Andromeda was asleep. Though she was not permitted to have potions in her possession for fear of overdose, Healer Smelthwick had recommended both Calming Draughts and Dreamless Sleep, which Kingsley administered as needed. He also read to her and encouraged her to get up and move every couple of hours, even if it was just to get a Coke from the kitchen or stretch her legs in the hall. Though it hadn't yet been a week, he was worried she'd atrophy if he let her do nothing but stay in bed hiding under the blankets, hating herself.

He'd never seen her so bad off.

And, frankly, he didn't know what to do.

Healer Smelthwick came on Saturday, returned on Monday, and was due back again today, even though it was Christmas Eve. When she arrived, it was nearly seven o'clock. She apologized for her tardiness, but the holidays were always a difficult and busy time at the facility. While most long-term patients wished they could be anywhere else, suicide attempts leading to emergency admittances of new patients were up.

Kingsley was alone in the living room. He'd been looking over Ministry paperwork that couldn't wait until after the holiday. Andromeda was asleep upstairs with Dorcas sitting by her bed, reading one of her textbooks.

"Could we speak privately, before waking her?" asked Healer Smelthwick. Kingsley said yes, of course, and invited her into the kitchen for tea. Dorcas had a stew simmering. All he had to do was pop bread in the oven at quarter-to eight.

"That smells delicious," said Adelaide as she added a lump of sugar to her tea. "Tell me, how have the last two days been?"

"The same," he answered. He went on to describe Andromeda's despondence, her unwillingness to care for herself, her inability to function at even the most basic level. Her never-ending tears, alternating with a state that seemed almost comatose.

"I think she's had a bit of a break," the Healer said sympathetically. "Honestly, I wouldn't be opposed to re-admitting her to the facility – I think she needs more help than outpatient services can provide – but I'm afraid doing so would negatively impact any appeal the two of you make, so I'm reluctant unless there is a chance she's going to hurt herself."

"We've kept watch over her, as you requested," he said quickly.

"I'm sure you have. And I hated to ask that you and Dorcas mind her like a child, but I don't feel she should be left alone at the time being. I haven't seen her in such a terrible state since she arrived in the facility at the end of April, though at that time she was still detoxing and much angrier. She might even be worse now. At least she had fire in her then."

"I remember," he said.

"And you know, I generally wouldn't discuss her condition with you, especially when she's not present, but I have… concerns."

"Concerns?"

"It's as if she's not all there, Kingsley." Adelaide gestured for him to sit at the table, then settled across from him. "I think the hearing itself was almost as damaging as the result. She was reminded of the last time she had to testify, which was traumatic, and the first time, after she was arrested and sent to Azkaban, a situation we never discuss, but I suspect affected her more than we realized. I didn't know any of that about Ted, nor did she tell me much about the time she was tortured, and I cannot understand how it never came up in one of our sessions. She must have purposely suppressed it or kept it from me so we wouldn't have to discuss, but talking about it on Friday brought it bubbling up to the surface. She's had to be strong all these years because of Teddy. Even when she was at her weakest, she was strong, and now, faced with the danger of losing him permanently, I worry she's giving up."

He drummed his fingers on the table, taking this all in. He'd tried to talk to her about Ted on Sunday, but she'd immediately shut him down and he hadn't wanted to push her.

"How do I help?"

"For now, continue to stay with her. Or have Dorcas stay with her. If she's alone in her bedroom or the shower, first make certain there's nothing there with which she can hurt herself. No razors or knives. No alcohol, obviously. No potions, except what you administer. I might even take her wand. I saw the little marks on her arm. She's been digging her fingernails into her skin. And I know she's been pulling out her hair again. I worry she'll do worse if given the opportunity. I know her sister used to burn herself; I don't want Andromeda getting the same idea."

"Narcissa isn't allowed here at the present."

"Is that for the best for Andromeda?" asked the Healer. "Or is that because you're still angry?"

"Both."

Healer Smelthwick sighed into her tea.

"You don't agree?"

"I honestly don't know. I've grown quite fond of Andromeda, as you're aware, and I want to see her surrounded by those who love her at this time, but I also share your concerns about Narcissa's actions as of late." She took a long sip of the hot liquid. "Between us, I wouldn't be opposed to having Narcissa returned to the facility either. She was one of my patients about three or four years ago. And knowing she not only indulged recently, but convinced her sister to do so with her, concerns me on several levels."

"I'd rather not talk about Narcissa."

Narcissa had tried to speak with Andromeda several times since learning the news about Teddy from Hermione (who heard it from Dorcas) but thus far Kingsley had refused to let her into the home, even closing their fireplace to the Floo Network to avoid sudden visits. The Healer had had to apparate to the nearest safe point and walk the rest of the way, as would any other potential visitor.

"About Teddy, then. Has she seen him?"

"No." Kingsley frowned. This angered him, too. "Potter says he thinks it's too soon. The boy needs to 'settle in' first. And then he wants visits to be supervised. He requested someone be Ministry-appointed, as if she's a danger to the boy." Kingsley clenched his fists too tightly around his mug. "I'm the bloody Minister for Magic and that boy wants to place one of my employees in my home to monitor interactions between my girlfriend and her own grandchild."

"How does that make you feel?"

"No need to discuss my feelings. I'm not your patient anymore," he said, more harshly than he meant to. She simply shook her head and sipped some more. He took several deep breaths to calm down before speaking again.

"I'm sorry. I appreciate everything you've done for both of us. I'm overtired and tense. I don't mean to take it out on you."

"If it helps you to snap at me, go right ahead," she said, without a hint of upset. "I can take it."

He half-smiled. She truly was an excellent Healer.

"I filed an appeal this morning, before Andromeda was awake. Dorcas was here, though, and knew I'd gone." He ran his index finger around the rim of his mug. "We'll get him back, somehow."

"Not like this, I'm afraid." Healer Smelthwick shook her head wearily. "Andromeda is in no fit state to raise him at the moment and I don't know that a successful appeal will be enough to turn her around. She was deeply wounded by the decision, not only because she lost him, but because it confirmed her greatest fear, one she harbored long before Teddy was in her care."

"That she's an unfit mother."

"Precisely."

"Do _you_ think she's an unfit mother, Healer?" Kingsley met her eye.

Neither of them spotted Andromeda hovering in the doorway.

"I think one of the most incredible things she's ever done was to kiss Teddy on Friday and tell him he would love staying with the Potters. She smiled and spoke positively and acted as though it would be a great adventure. She didn't let him see how broken she was by the decision, which would have compounded _his_ trauma. She was strong for him in a way that only a mother could be. I wish the partial Wizengamot had seen that."

"You think she can do it, then? Raise Teddy? You think _we_ can do it?"

"As much as I'm fond of Andromeda personally, I wouldn't have testified that I thought he belonged with the two of you if I didn't genuinely believe it was the best thing for him. And I'll do whatever I can to help her through this so you can get him back."

"Thank you," said Andromeda softly. She was leaning against the door frame, still in the pajamas she'd put on after a shower the morning before. Her hair was a tangled mess and there were dark bags under her red, irritated eyes.

"Andromeda!" Kingsley hopped up to help her, as if she couldn't walk independently to the table. She waved him away and moved toward the end, with her Healer and her partner to either side of her.

"I told Dorcas to take a shower. Neville is coming for dinner and she looks awful. I promised her I'd come straight down here. I heard what you said." She tried to smile at Adelaide, but tears were already forming. "I didn't want Teddy to be afraid. That's why I told him they would take good care of him. I didn't want him to…"

"It's alright," Kingsley assured her. "You did the right thing."

"I've lost all of my children," she said quietly as she sat. "I aborted two, my sister murdered one, and, now, my last one has been taken away."

"Your last one is upstairs, in the shower," said Kingsley, standing behind her and giving her shoulders a squeeze (while ignoring that she said she'd aborted _two_ , which was twice as many as she'd previously told him about). "And I promise we'll get Teddy back, even if we have to kidnap him and move to Australia."

"I don't think _that_ will be necessary," said Healer Smelthwick with an eye-roll. "Now that you're awake, Andromeda, should we get started with your session?"

Andromeda nodded.

"I'm ready."

That night, after the Healer had gone and Andromeda had shed a few more tears than she thought she had left in her, they shared a quiet dinner with Dorcas and Neville.

"It's Christmas Eve," moped Andromeda, poking at her stew. "On Christmas Eve, I always perform for Teddy 'A Christmas Carol.'" Her nose twitched. She tugged at a few strands of her hair. "Oh, Neville, your grandmother – we invited her for dinner tomorrow, and I haven't… I didn't prepare. I make roast goose. It's the only time of year I do. Is your grandmother-?"

"My gran said if you want, she'll come cook. She doesn't want you to have to worry about it." Neville set down his water and glanced quickly at Dorcas before looking back at Andromeda. "Gran also says she thinks Harry's making a mistake. She says my aunt and uncle tried to take me after… my parents… you know. What happened. But she refused to let them."

Andromeda felt a surge of guilt, even though she was no more responsible for her sister's torture of the Longbottoms than she was her sister's murder of her daughter.

"It didn't go to the Wizengamot, but she fought with Aunt Mabel and Uncle Addams. Aunt Mable is my mum's older sister. They have kids around my age. Few years before me at Hogwarts. Aunt Mabel thought she would be a better mum for me than Gran, they had a massive row over it and didn't talk for a few years, but Gran said she knew then that she was the best parent for me and she knows now that you're the best for Teddy. She also thinks Harry means well, just like Aunt Mabel did, but he's all wrong about it."

"You were raised by your grandmother, Neville," said Kingsley slowly, as if this had just occurred to him. "You must know… there must be… Teddy has some… challenges. He's asked to call Andromeda 'mum' and wants me to be his father. He wants a brother. He has some anger issues."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I was angry sometimes. Sad. I hated that I couldn't remember my parents before they were the way they are now. When I was six, I told my mum I wished she was normal. I… er…" Neville shifted in his seat and dropped his gaze. "I shouted it at her and she cried. I don't know if she knows who I am or if she knew what I'd said… what I meant… but I think I scared her with my shouting and she cried. I felt awful about it for weeks, but the next time I saw her she was just the same. Not really there. Handing me gum wrappers. I don't think she remembered."

"Neville and his gran visit them on Christmas every year at St. Mungo's," said Dorcas, reaching over to take his hand. "He asked me to go with them tomorrow afternoon. If that's… alright? May I go?"

"Of course," said Andromeda. "You can go wherever you'd like with Neville. You don't have to ask our permission."

"Oh." Dorcas and Neville exchanged a glance. "In that case, you wouldn't mind if we go to Paris for New Year's?"

"To Paris?" asked Andromeda as Kingsley said, "Excuse me?"

"To Paris," confirmed Neville. He smiled hopefully. "Dorcas has never been. I thought it might be fun. New Year's Eve and all that."

"All the way there and back in a day?" asked Kingsley.

Dorcas and Neville exchanged another glance. Andromeda chuckled.

"They want to go overnight, Kingsley. For New Year's Eve. As people do. Yes, Dorcas, you may go. Have fun."

"What?" asked Kingsley. _"Overnight?"_

"Oh, thank you!" Dorcas sprang from her seat to hug Andromeda, who smiled but shooed her back to her chair.

"Thank you," said Neville.

"What?" asked Kingsley again, as if he didn't quite get it. "Overnight? Absolutely not. She's eighteen!"

"They're already having sex, Kingsley, what does it matter if they do it or in Paris?"

His mouth gaped open. "They're already having sex?"

"Just twice," said Neville. Dorcas went pink.

"TWICE?" exclaimed Kingsley.

"As you said, she's eighteen," said Andromeda. "Of age. Of age, plus a year. She hasn't been a virgin for a long time. And it isn't as if we weren't doing the same at that age. By eighteen I was married and you – wasn't your Hogwarts girlfriend pregnant by her age?"

"That's precisely my point," said Kingsley. "Eighteen-years-olds have terrible judgment."

"Which is why we're so glad Neville is twenty-three and therefore beyond the age of terrible judgement!" Andromeda grinned. For the first time since they lost Teddy, she almost felt like herself again… and 'herself' enjoyed watching Kingsley fret over the well-being of their unofficial young 'daughter.'

"Don't know about that," grumbled Kingsley.

"What are you worried about?" pressed Andromeda. "He's not going to hurt her. He's not going to abandon her at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He's not going to-"

"When I was not much younger than he is, I impregnated my girlfriend, couldn't afford to marry her or provide for her, hardly got the chance to know my son, and then lost them both to murderers who wouldn't have targeted them if they weren't at her family's home that night. I couldn't care for them and I didn't protect them. They would both be alive if I hadn't-"

The teasing glint in Andromeda's eye was instantly replaced by one of deep empathy and understanding.

"If you hadn't gotten her pregnant, she still would have been killed while home with her family. She didn't die because you got her pregnant when you were too young to provide for her. She died because the You-Know-Who wanted her entire family dead."

"I'm not going to get Dorcas pregnant," said Neville softly, still holding her hand. "But if something happened and I did, I could afford to provide for her and the child – and, more importantly, we're not in danger now. There's no war. Voldemort is gone."

"There is always another threat lurking on the horizon. Peace is short-lived." Kingsley pressed his fingertips to his temples. "I couldn't save Brighton, I almost lost Andromeda in April, and I don't know what to do about Teddy. I know you mean well, Neville, but if you hurt Dorcas-"

"It's not up to you to save everyone, my love," said Andromeda, reaching across the table to gently brush her fingertips against his cheek. "Let the rest of us take on a bit of responsibility too, won't you?"

"I can protect myself, too, Kingsley," said Dorcas. "I'm learning Defensive spells. I've gotten very good with Protego. Neville, Hermione, and Draco help me practice. I'm going to Hogwarts soon. I'm going to be educated and hard-working and then I'll find a job and make sure I can provide for myself before I have any babies to care for. You don't have to worry about me."

"I can't promise not to hurt her," said Neville. "I've only had two girlfriends before and both times, when we broke up, it hurt." He paused. "Well, it hurt _me_. And Susan. I don't think Luna noticed. When I told her I thought we should see other people she said, 'Alright then. Living people or dead ones?' and I didn't know what to make of that."

"Luna, the blonde with the Nargles from the engagement party?" Kingsley asked his girlfriend.

Andromeda nodded.

"She was… interesting," he said. "You dated her?"

"Yes," said Neville. "We're still friends. And if Dorcas and I break up, I hope we'll be friends. But it will hurt. Likely. So I can't promise there won't be hurt."

Dorcas chewed her lip. Neville continued.

"But I can promise I'll never _intentionally_ hurt her. I won't hit her or degrade her. I won't be unfaithful to her. I won't disrespect or embarrass her. I wouldn't get her pregnant then abandon her. I don't see how anyone can set out to hurt someone they've loved, even if they don't love them like that anymore."

Kingsley swore under his breath, thinking about the vicious things he'd recently said to Hestia, and the way she'd cried when she asked how he could hurt someone he once loved.

 _"_ _It is not my intention to hurt you,"_ he'd said.

But he knew, the truth was, he'd been purposely hurtful toward her – hateful, even – on multiple occasions since their summer indiscretion.

He sipped from his water glass. Thinking.

"Neville is still friends with Susan _and_ Luna," reiterated Dorcas, looking at Kingsley as if desperate for his approval. "Isn't that nice? I've met Luna at Grimmauld Place and Malfoy Manor a few times, and we had lunch with Susan and her boyfriend, Terry, a few days ago. If he were the sort to hurt women, I don't think they would still be friends with him."

"Solid point," said Andromeda.

"It's reassuring to hear," said Kingsley. "Very well. You may go to Paris for New Year's Eve. But we expect her back by eleven at night on the first."

Both Neville and Dorcas thanked him, looking relieved, but Andromeda laughed. A real laugh. Her first real laugh in days.

"What's funny?" asked Kingsley.

"For a man who was adamant he didn't want to be a father, you've certainly settled quickly into the role. Tell me, Kingsley, if the boy wants to marry her someday, should he come 'round and ask your permission first?"

"Nonsense," said Kingsley, looking slightly put out. "That's archaic."

But Andromeda had a feeling he wouldn't mind being consulted.

During dessert, Kingsley suggested the four of them play Scrabble, which Andromeda suspected was more because he wanted to keep her distracted and active than because he really wanted to, but she said yes. The game was a good one – Neville made for a surprisingly formidable opponent – but she managed to pull off a win in the end. After this, Dorcas offered to clean up the kitchen and do dishes and Neville said he would help, so Andromeda and Kingsley moved to the sitting room sofa. They settled on either side, her cradling a cup of tea, him reaching for his book. But he'd only read two pages before setting it down on the table and looking her way.

"What?" she asked. She lowered the tea.

"Do you remember the first time I told you I love you?"

"This, again?" Sip.

"We were sitting here. You were holding Hope. Teddy was stretched out across us. They were sick. You'd just finished giving them a bath and changing out of your vomit-spotted clothes."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I smelled lovely."

"I knew then." He didn't take his eyes off her. Her eyes met his.

"Knew what?"

"That I'd never love another woman in the same way. That I'd never before loved a woman in the same way."

"Please." She looked away, reaching for her mug.

She looked a mess tonight. Faded, torn jeans. Oversized Oxford t-shirt. Glasses perched on top of her head. Hair unbrushed.

He thought she was beautiful.

"I knew then that I wanted to marry you."

She stared into her tea. "Stop that."

"I love you."

"Stop."

"Marry me."

"Kingsley-" She set the mug down and turned her upper body to face him, but as it had so many times in the past, a familiar little voice interrupted.

"NANA!"

"Oh." Andromeda clutched her hands to her chest. "I must be losing what little sanity I have left. I hear Teddy."

"NANA!"

"I…" Kingsley's brow furrowed. "I hear him too!"

"NAAANAAA!" Someone pounded at the front door. "NANA, YOU HOME?"

"Teddy!" Both Andromeda and Kingsley leapt up from the couch and hurried into the hall, nearly colliding with Dorcas and Neville coming from the kitchen. Andromeda yanked the door open.

There was her little love, wearing his winter coat, open, over firetruck pajamas with the feet sewn in, his nose bright red with cheeks chapped from the cold. He wore no hat or mittens, and snowflakes had landed in his brown, curly hair.

"Hi, Nana," said Teddy. He held up his arms. In one hand, he held a wand. "Pick me up? I'm cold."

Kingsley glanced up just in time to see the Knight Bus disappear.

"My Teddy!" Andromeda gathered him into her arms and rushed him into the house, hugging him. "You're freezing! Let's get you in the bath, I'll do warming charms, we need to-"

"How did you get here?" asked Kingsley, even though he knew.

"For a stranded witch or wizard!" said Teddy. He handed Kingsley the wand. "I taked the bus before with Dorcas."

"I'm sorry!" said Dorcas quickly, as if this meant she'd done something wrong.

"Why aren't you at Grimmauld Place?" asked Kingsley, following Andromeda up the stairs. She hurried him up to the bathroom. Neville and Dorcas followed, and even Meow-meow joined the procession.

"It's Christmas Eve," said Teddy, as if it should have been obvious. He shivered. "Nana, I'm _cold_."

Andromeda started filling the tub with warm water – not too hot – and quickly performed wandless drying and warming spells on the little boy's pajamas. She took a towel to his wet hair and pressed a warm flannel to his ruddy cheeks.

"Whose wand is this?" asked Kingsley, holding it up. Teddy ignored him, snuggling closer to his kneeling grandmother, who was reaching one hand into the water to test it. "Young man, I asked-"

"Kingsley, stop interrogating him. We can talk when he's warm."

"The Potters will be in a panic when they discover he's gone," said Kingsley. "Do you reckon they'll check here first? What do you wager they'll accuse us of somehow stealing him from Grimmauld Place?"

"Wasn't at Grimmauld Place," said Teddy. "Harry had to go work and Ginny said she's too tired for me so they taked me to the Burrow. I got that wand from Freddy's aunt Floor."

"Floor?" asked Neville.

"Fleur," said Andromeda. "Right? With the long blonde hair?"

"Like this!" said Teddy, scrunching up his face. His hair went long, straight, and white-blond. He giggled and morphed back to normal. "I feel better now. Nana, I can sleep with you?"

"Let's get you in the bath." She unzipped the one-piece pajamas, slipped down his underpants, and helped him carefully into the tub.

"Were you supposed to be spending the night at the Burrow?" asked Kingsley, still trying to get a handle on the situation. Teddy nodded.

"They had a big party with all the kids and mums and dads 'cept Harry Potter because he had to go to work. All the kids had to go to bed at eight but Ginny said we could go back to Grimmauld Place after Harry got back to the Burrow. I could not sleep in the room with all the kids. I wanted my nana and the story of the three Christmas ghosts so I hided in the bathroom in the cupboard under the sink and when Floora taked her shower I stealed – I mean, I _borrowed_ – her wand from her dress pocket and put on my coat and sneaked outside and put out my wand hand and taked the Knight Bus. Stan Shunpike letted me ride and gived me hot chocolate even though I had no Sickles. He said it's a Christmas present."

"I'm going to the Burrow," said Kingsley, turning.

"No, please!" Andromeda reached for the end of his robe. "Let Teddy stay the night here. We'll bring him back tomorrow."

"We can't let them worry all night. I'm going there now. And I'm going to ask how, in a house full of competent adults, they managed to lose a little boy in the middle of the night in the dark in the snow." Kingsley's face hardened into an expression of anger and bitterness. "We're 'unfit parents' but somehow we managed to never let the boy take the Knight Bus alone in his pajamas. He could have gotten hurt. He could have frostbite. Who knows what could have happened?"

"I'll come with you," said Neville. He hurried out after Kingsley.

"TELL THEM I DON'T WANNA GO BACK!" called Teddy from the tub. Neither Neville nor Kingsley replied. Moments later, the downstairs door creaked opened and slammed shut.

"Don't worry, Teddy," said Andromeda. She pressed the flannel to his cheeks again. "I won't let them take you back tonight. I promise."

"You can't promise that," whispered Dorcas. She knelt beside Andromeda on the floor. "What if they say he has to go back?"

"They can pry him out of my arms while he screams and sobs." She leaned over the edge of the tub to kiss his forehead. "Kingsley's right. He could have been hurt. Anyone could have been on that Knight Bus. What if someone had taken him? Or touched him? Or what if the bus hadn't come and he'd fallen into the snow and frozen to death? What if the wand backfired and left him in the same state as Frank and Alice?" The more Andromeda thought about it, the angrier she was, too. "And why did Ginny tell him he makes her 'too tired'? Why did Harry choose to work on Christmas Eve? There couldn't have been an emergency, Kingsley would have been contacted. Where was Molly when he was slipping out the door? Teddy!" She cupped his face in her hands. "Running away from the Burrow was very dangerous. You should never run away, do you understand? You could have died! If something had happened…" The tears she'd been shedding all week came back full-force. "If anything had happened to you, Teddy… if anything… I can't… my Teddy!"

Dorcas held Andromeda. Teddy folded his arms on the edge of the tub.

"I made you sad, Nana? I thought you'd be happy to see me!"

"I _am_ happy to see you!" She wrapped her arms around him, not caring that she was getting all wet. "But it scares me to think of you lost or hurt. I love you, my Teddy."

"I'm not so cold now. Can I get out?"

She lifted him from the tub, hugging him to her again. Dorcas grabbed a towel and handed it to Andromeda, who wrapped him up and carried him to his bedroom to find new pajamas.

"How about these?" she asked. They had the feet sewn in, too, but these were green, with little penguins wearing red and gold printed scarves all over. They were supposed to have been a present – she bought him new pajamas to wear on Christmas Eve every year – but she couldn't bear to send them to Grimmauld Place with the rest of his things.

"I like the penguins," said Teddy as his nana zipped them. "You can tell me the story now?"

"What story?" asked Dorcas.

"Every year, I use magic and a few puppets Nymphadora made in art class as a child to tell Teddy the story of Ebenezer Scrooge and Tiny Tim."

"And the three ghosts!" Teddy wrapped his arms around Andromeda, who was still kneeling on the floor, facing him. "Past, Present, Future!"

"It's a Muggle tale called 'A Christmas Carol' by Charles Dickens," explained Andromeda. She stood and gathered Teddy into her arms. "Let's wait downstairs for Kingsley. If the Potters say you can stay, we'll do the story before bed, as always."

"I can stay," said Teddy definitely. "You promised!"

Dorcas shot Andromeda a sharp look. Andromeda looked pained.

"We'll see, Teddy."

Meanwhile, at the Burrow…

"No!" Ginny shot up from the table. The extended Weasley family, save for the youngest generation, was gathered around on chairs and benches and stools, drinking hot butterbeer and sharing sweet treats. "Teddy is upstairs, asleep, with all the other children!"

"Is he?" asked Kingsley. He held up Fleur's wand. "Or did he borrow this and take the Knight Bus by himself all the way back to Andromeda's? Did he knock at her door and surprise us? Was he wearing his coat and firetruck pajamas, no hat or mittens?" He tossed the wand on the table. Fleur reached for it.

"I… No!" Ginny looked from him to her mother and back. "He can't have."

"I'll look upstairs," said George. He apparated out of the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a POP.

"Well?" asked Molly.

"He's gone," said George.

"He's gone," said Kingsley. "How long ago did he leave? For how long was he riding the Knight Bus? Long enough to drink the hot chocolate Stan Shunpike gave him."

"I have to go get him!" Ginny reached for her wand and Accioed her coat.

"Not right now," said Kingsley. "He's in the tub. His body temperature was dangerously low. We're lucky he did not yet show significant signs of frostbite." Kingsley didn't feel at all bad about laying it on thick, increasing her feelings of guilt. Neville, to his credit, didn't say a word.

"I… I'm sorry!" Ginny covered her face for a second, then dropped her hands, making a sound of frustration. "He's a difficult child. And this can't come at a worse time. James Sirius isn't sleeping through the night. I've never flown worse. And I've just learned we're expecting again. I'm exhausted!"

"You're expecting again?" asked Molly. Ginny nodded.

"You're exhausted," said Kingsley, without a hint of sympathy. "You lost him - and he could have died - because you're exhausted?"

"I'm sorry! But I can't do this! I told Harry I can't do this." Fire flashed in Ginny's eyes as guilt gave way to anger. "Yesterday, Teddy _hit_ the baby. _Hit him!_ James was sitting on the floor with his little half-moon pillow, the one that helps him keep his balance, when Teddy ran over and slapped him in the chest! Teddy won't go to bed when we say it's time, he won't shower or bathe alone, he won't eat the food I cook, and he won't stop saying awful words like 'filthy Mudblood' and 'fuck off.' I've told Harry I can't manage him. I can't! I said we should give him back. But he says this behavior is more evidence that Teddy needs to be with us because he says he must have picked this up at home. He thinks we're saving him from a childhood of neglect and abuse and how can I argue against that? But I'm not his mother! I can't be. I have my own child – and another coming – to worry about."

"Sounds like Teddy needs you," said Bill.

"You knew the boy was challenging before you took him," Charlie piped up.

"Harry's just trying to do right by him," added Ron.

"I know." Ginny sighed. "And I love Teddy. But I don't want to raise him. It hasn't even been a week and that boy is _ruining_ my life!"

Everyone in the kitchen looked taken aback by this admission, especially Molly, Kingsley, and, just stepping into the doorway, Harry.

"Ginny?" asked Harry. "How could you say that? He's my godson. He needs us. He needs people to raise him, he needs a good home. He-"

"He had a home, he had people to raise him!" Ginny gestured toward Kingsley. She exhaled loudly. "Yesterday, after he hit James, I spanked him."

Harry's mouth gaped open.

"He cried, of course, and told me his nana _never_ does that. He said she has a Time Away chair for when he's naughty. I reminded him I'd sent him to time out six times already that morning. He told my I'm the worst mummy ever. I think he's right. I thought I was a decent mother until we took him in. Now, I don't know if I can handle more than one child. I don't know if I can handle _any_ child. What if James is like that when he's five? How will I manage? Teddy paints on the walls, he throws toys down the stairs, he gives Kreacher clothes, he tried to flush the fish, we had to hide all the Floo Powder, and I think he's been peeing in one of the potted plants."

"Sounds like he's pretty unhappy at Grimmauld Place," said Neville gently. "What does his Healer say about it?"

 _"Someone_ doesn't think he needs a Healer." Ginny glared at Harry. _"Someone_ told her Teddy won't be seeing her anymore. _Someone_ thinks he's also the 'Chosen One' when it comes to parenting."

"Ginny?" Harry was visibly wounded by her words. "I didn't know you were this unhappy."

"I don't want Teddy. I'm sorry, Harry, but it's the truth. I only went along with your petition for custody because I thought we would lose and that would be the end of it! The Partial Wizengamot would determine she was fit and you'd be satisfied. I thought you would go back to being his godfather and not want anything more. I didn't know she was going to go out and get pissed in a pub a week before the hearing! I didn't know one of my Beaters was going to Owl us photographic evidence that made her look like a slag! I didn't know he was going to confess to getting Hestia up the duff! I didn't know we were going to bloody win." She plopped back down in her chair.

"Lower your voice!" snapped Harry. "What if he hears you?"

"Teddy isn't here, Harry," said Molly. "He sneaked out tonight and took the Knight Bus, alone, to Andromeda's house. He's there now."

"What?!" Harry looked to Kingsley for confirmation. "Why didn't you bring him back?"

"Why didn't I – _I_ wasn't the one who lost him, Potter!" Kingsley took a deep breath, determined to remain in control – especially as they had a large audience of Weasleys staring at them. "I gave you and Ginny the courtesy of coming here... I came to return to return Mrs. Weasley's wand." He nodded at Fleur, who glanced down at the wand in her hands. "At which time I informed your wife and her family that the boy was missing, as no one had noticed. When Neville and I departed, Andromeda and Dorcas had Teddy in the tub, trying to slowly warm him without shocking his system. I assume, by now, he's in pajamas, and I believe he would prefer to spend the night – Christmas Eve – at home with his family. If you insist upon continuing with… this… we shall return him to you tomorrow, and see you in front of the Wizengamot when our appeal is heard."

"Teddy hits, swears, and refuses to listen because these are the behaviors he has learned at home," said Harry. "If anything, these last five days have shown me how very much he needs a stable, safe, loving home. I expected the transition to be difficult, but-"

"Had you listened to the testimony of Healer Bonham, you would know that Teddy's behavioral and emotional issues primarily stem from a growing awareness of the circumstances surrounding his parents' deaths, the fear he will lose those close to him, and difficulty understanding why he doesn't have a mother or father while others kids do, as that is unfair – and fairness is a common concern at this age, when children are learning to share and beginning to develop an awareness of justice and inequality." Kingsley stared sternly down at the younger man. "Yes, our actions have caused the boy some difficulties, but he is neither abused nor neglected in our home."

"I had difficulties at that age too, mate," said Neville, moving closer to Harry. "Surprised you didn't. I told my gran I wanted 'real parents,' not my Mum and Dad, and asked if I could call her Mum around other kids so no one would know I didn't have one. She said no. She said I still have parents and should be proud of them, proud for everyone to know who they are and what they did." Neville shrugged. "I used to cry a lot. Have nightmares. Break my toys on purpose and tell Gran a ghoul did it. When I was eight, I ran away to live with Muggles. I said I'd had enough magic. That was right after Great-Uncle Algie almost accidentally drowned me. They used to worry I was a Squib."

"I know you were mistreated by your aunt and uncle and would have preferred to live with your godfather," said Percy. "But that doesn't mean it's the same for Teddy."

"Let the boy spend the night with his grandmother, at least," said George. "It's Christmas Eve."

"She _is_ the only mother he's ever known," said Molly. "Even if she's not in the best state to raise him right now, what harm could one night do?"

"It's Christmas Eve," said Angelina emphatically, echoing her husband.

"He might even be asleep already," said Arthur. "No sense waking the little tyke."

"Take him back tomorrow," said Bill. "Bring him here for dinner. He can play with the other kids then. But we'll all be at our own homes in the morning. Maybe it's best if he is, too."

Harry searched the faces of the Weasleys and their spouses, who were all nodding. He was clearly outnumbered.

"Ginny?" he asked.

"I think you know how I feel," she said, almost apologetically.

He heaved a sigh.

"Very well. Tell Andromeda he may stay the night. But tomorrow…"

"Four-thirty," said Molly, smiling at Kingsley. "You're welcome to join us for dinner, too. All of you."

"One of us will drop him here at four-thirty," said Kingsley. "Thank you for the invitation, Molly, but we have guests coming for dinner."

"Oh!" Molly seemed surprised, but she quickly recovered. "Four-thirty, then. We look forward to seeing him then. Don't we, Ginny?"

Ginny sent her mother a withering glare, but she forced a half-smile onto her face and nodded. "Of course."

Kingsley reached out a hand. Harry shook it.

"Goodnight, then," said Kingsley, heading for the door.

"Goodnight," said Neville, following.

The extended Wealsey family called out their goodnights, too, and it was not long before Kingsley and Neville had returned to the Tonks home.

Andromeda was seated on the couch, cradling a warm, dry, pajama-clad Teddy in her arms like an overlarge baby. He was sucking his first two fingers.

"Well?"

"He can stay the night," said Kingsley. "We'll return him tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, good!" Dorcas appeared at the bottom of the stairs, having just changed into her own pajamas. She hugged Neville.

"It's very late, Teddy," said Andromeda, hugging him tightly to her. "Do you want to sleep or should I tell you the story of Tiny-"

"Three ghosts!" shouted Teddy.

"Upstairs, then." She carried him. Kingsley turned to Neville and Dorcas.

"Care to join? It's an excellent performance."

The young couple smiled, held hands, and said "sure" in unison.

Andromeda, filled with extra vigor and more Christmas cheer than she'd thought she could possibly muster this year, sat Teddy in his bed, gathered her puppets, and drew her wand. She dimmed the lights and waved her wand. The shadow of a headstone appeared on Teddys's wall.

"'Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that…'"

Neville gasped when the sinister grey puppet Jacob Marley made his appearance, clanging chains. Teddy applauded delightedly when the first of the three visiting ghosts, Christmas Past, arrived in her shimmery white robe. Kingsley lent his booming voice to jolly, giant Christmas Present. And Dorcas cried when grim, cloaked Christmas Future revealed the grave and crutch of Tiny Tim.

The special effects were impressive. Andromeda's acting perhaps even more so. And by the end, all four enraptured audience members felt as though they'd not been listening to a story, but watching live as Scrooge learned it was Christmas day, he hadn't missed it, and hurried to the Cratchit's.

Right on cue, Teddy gave the famous last line:

"God bless us, every one!"

Of course, after this, he was too excited to sleep (as he was every Christmas Eve) so Andromeda told him he could stay in her bed (as he also did every Christmas Eve). Neville and Dorcas said goodnight and slipped downstairs to 'talk' on the couch awhile. ("It's past eleven," whispered Kingsley. "Shouldn't he be going home?") Andromeda chuckled and carried Teddy to their room. She had him cover his eyes while she and Kingsley dressed for bed, not that she cared what he saw, and then they slid under the blankets together. A little family.

Teddy was asleep in seconds, his cheek to his nana's chest, his arm around her waist. Meow-meow curled up by their feet. Kingsley gently kissed Andromeda before using Nox to put out the lights. Andromeda stroked Teddy's soft hair. Kingsley stared up at the ceiling. They were quiet for several minutes. She thought he might even be asleep when she spoke softly.

"Do you still want to marry me, Kingsley?"

Kingsley turned onto his side to face her.

"As I told the Wizengamot, I would marry you tomorrow. Why?"

"I think that might be alright," she answered in a whisper. "To be married, I mean. Could you ask me?"

"You want-"

"Not now!" she said hurriedly, cutting him off. "But… _sometime._ If you wanted to, that is."

"Tomorrow at five?"

She giggled. "Let's not schedule it."

"Alright." He leaned over to kiss her once more. "I'll surprise you."

"Fine."

Teddy mumbled and shifted in his sleep. He was drooling onto Andromeda's chest, but she didn't care. She was just happy to have him home again.

For this one night.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Happy Halloween! Thank you to everyone who shared their reactions to the last chapter(s) - **Francesca, clarasnotlikely, hule, Banglabou, lilikaco, NazChick, KnowInsight, sassanech, zrose,** and **Francine Hibiscus**. It was one of the hardest to write but also one of my favorites (once it was finished). I hope yo udon't hate Harry too much. He thinks he's doing the right thing... he's just wrong. More about Narcissa upcoming in Chapter 39, and yes, there will be a Part Four. This was originally supposed to be a very short fic, but I accidentally fell deep into it and just can't skip to the end (Draco & Hermione's wedding) without showing what happens first. I hope you'll stick with it! Thank you for reading everything thus far!

 **-AL**


	39. The Last Transition

**CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE**

 **THE LAST TRANSITION**

Just before 4:30 in the afternoon on Christmas Day, Kingsley lifted the anti-apparition charms placed on Andromeda's home, promised to return promptly, and left for the Burrow with the boy.

This left Andromeda alone in the house for the first time since before the hearing.

She sat at the kitchen table, picked at her cuticles, and tried not to think too much. Too much thinking would lead to feeling, and the only thing she could imagine feeling was pain. She'd do anything to stave that off as long as possible.

Well, almost anything.

Not Elven Herb or alcohol or self-harm… but anything else.

She sighed.

Christmas morning with Teddy had been perfect. She'd wrapped his little gifts before he awoke (bright and early) and had them waiting downstairs on the fireplace hearth. They hadn't gotten a tree – she'd been too depressed after the hearing – so Kingsley transfigured a stick he'd found outside into a tiny one on which they hung a few baubles for decoration. It was on top of the coffee table, being batted at by Meow-meow.

Andromeda had wrapped gifts for Kingsley, Dorcas, and Neville too, and because Neville brought over a goose (from his gran) in the morning when he picked up Dorcas to go see his parents at St. Mungo's, Andromeda was able to start cooking early.

"Nana?" Teddy wandered into the kitchen while she was starting on the trimmings. (She'd put Kingsley to work as her sous chef; he was chopping vegetables.) "Nana? Did Father Christmas come?"

"Of course, Teddy!" She swept him into her arms and kissed his cheeks. "He wouldn't forget you! But let's not open gifts until Dorcas is awake."

"She _is_ awake," said Teddy. "Neville too. I waked up all alone so I went in her room and waked them up, too."

"You woke them both up?" asked Andromeda. "Neville is here?"

Teddy nodded.

"I was a surprise!" Teddy giggled. "I waked them up by jumping on them! Neville falled right out of bed and I saw his bum! It was white like snow. Then Dorcas telled me 'get out, Teddy!' She almost falled out of bed, too. But she had a shirt on, not like Neville."

"What?" Kingsley missed the parsnip and cut his thumb. "Ow!"

"Watch what you're doing, dear." Andromeda quickly mended the cut with her wand, opened the drawer by the sink, and tossed him a small container of Essence of Dittany.

"Neville's here? With… in her… he…" Kingsley exhaled. He glanced at Teddy. "Is that a good idea, considering? When we appeal…"

"I don't care." Andromeda had spent a lot of time in the past worrying about propriety, which included not letting Kingsley stay the night for a very long time, but what did it matter? She'd lost Teddy anyway.

Kingsley decided not to make it bigger than it needed to be and went back to chopping.

"Nana? I can have beans on toast?"

"Is that what you want?"

Teddy nodded and climbed up into a chair. "And juice. Orange and mango?"

Andromeda checked the refrigerator. "I have orange and carrot or apple and mango."

"Apple mango."

"With beans on toast?" Kingsley wrinkled his nose at the combination.

"And a Chocolate Frog?" Teddy added hopefully.

"Here's a Chocolate Frog," said Andromeda. She removed one from her 'secret' stash and handed it to him. He hurriedly peeled off the wrapper, let the toad hop twice, and caught it. He held up the card to show Kingsley: Helga Hufflepuff.

"A Chocolate Frog at eight-thirty in the morning?" asked Kingsley, taking the card to add to Teddy's collection book.

"It's Christmas," said Andromeda.

"I eat chocolate at breakfast now," said Teddy. "Ginny lets me have Chocolate Rice Puffs cereal in the morning." He accepted the juice glass being held out by his grandmother. "She says she can't cook what with getting sick."

Teddy pantomimed vomiting.

"Ginny is expecting another baby," said Kingsley. He hadn't had the opportunity to fill Andromeda in the night before.

Andromeda nodded, eerily expressionless. "Her focus is on her own children, then, I'm sure."

"Yesterday, I had a Toaster Tart for lunch. Ginny buyed it at a Muggle store while Harry went to work. It's a frosted biscuit on the outside with sugar fruit jam on the inside. Ginny said she had a crave-ding."

"Craving," corrected Andromeda.

"I hope Ginny knows how to extract rotten teeth," said Kingsley.

Teddy stuck his finger up his nose and began to rummage.

"Teddy!" Kingsley handed him a disposable napkin. "Don't do that."

"Sorry." Teddy took the napkin, but stuck the offending finger in his mouth. Kingsley gagged. Andromeda went back to cooking, adding cheese to the beans, as if she hadn't seen.

"You're not going to tell him to wash his hands?" asked Kingsley.

"They'll only get dirty again," she answered flatly.

"Teddy, don't pick your nose," said Kingsley. " _Merlin_."

"Nana…" Teddy balled up his napkin and batted it back and forth like a cat toy across the table. "Are you sick in your head?"

"Am I… what?" She turned away from the stove to face the table. "Sick in the head?"

"Harry says I have to live at Grimmauld Place because you can't take proper care of me. He said you're sick. I said no, she's all better! He said no, she has a sickness in her head and it's hard for her to get better."

The napkin flew too far and rolled over the veggies Kingsley was chopping. He used his wand to send it to the rubbish bin.

"Harry said I'll be safer with him and Ginny. He said they love me and will take care of me and I can visit you. He said most kids don't live with their grandmother. He said most children live with a mom and dad." Teddy sighed, dipped his fingers into his glass, and sucked the juice off.

"Don't do that with your drink," scolded Kingsley.

"You know most children live with a mom or dad," said Andromeda carefully. "But you also know that there are many different types of families, and-"

"I know. Harry said sometimes, when a mom and dad die, the child had to live with someone else. He said that's the godparents' job, to take care of the child if the mom and dad die. He said he was s'posed to live with his godfather at Grimmauld Place. He said it's his job as godfather to make sure I am healthy and safe and happy and that's why I can't live here." Teddy dipped his fingers in his juice again. "I feeled healthy and safe and happy here." He sucked his fingers. Juice dribbled down his chin and onto his pajamas.

Kingsley reached over and took the glass away.

"You may have this back when you're ready to drink it like a five-year-old," he said.

Teddy put on a pout.

"It's Christmas," said Andromeda dully. "Let him do what he wants with the juice."

"Absolutely not." Kingsley sent Teddy a sharp look.

Teddy's breakfast was ready, so Andromeda plated it and set it before him on the table, moving his juice glass back within reach. He immediately slurped some of the stray beans off the side of the plate, his hands behind his back, as if participating in one of the nasty No-Maj eating competitions.

"Teddy!" exclaimed Kingsley. He accioed over silverware.

"What?" asked Teddy innocently, but with a little glance at his grandmother, who was now starting the dishes.

"You know what," said Kingsley.

Dorcas entered then, looking awkward and sheepish.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," said Andromeda. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas." She fidgeted. "Would it be alright if Neville joined us for breakfast?"

"Is he dressed?" asked Andromeda. Dorcas flushed pink.

"He… yes." Dorcas' eyes darted toward Kingsley. "Did Teddy mention…?"

"Teddy mentioned," said Kingsley. "We'll discuss it later."

"Nothing to discuss," said Andromeda. "She's an adult, he's an adult, and Teddy's seen worse things than Neville Longbottom's pale arse."

Teddy snickered.

Dorcas went even redder.

Neville stepped into the kitchen. "Just to be clear, I was wearing undershorts. White ones. I wasn't… uh… naked. And we'd only been sleeping."

He and Dorcas exchanged a glance. Andromeda, thanks to Legilimency, knew this to be the truth, though she could tell Kingsley had his doubts.

"It's fine," she said. "Sit. I'll feed you."

Dorcas and Neville (fully dressed) sat as directed, though they both looked uncomfortable.

Teddy dipped his fingers in his juice and again, this time knocking the glass over. Kingsley quickly hopped up, grabbed a napkin, righted the glass, then used his wand to Vanish the wet napkin and what remained of the spill. Andromeda poured him more juice without comment.

"You were told not to do that!" said Kingsley, at the end of his patience.

"Nana said I can do what I want," Teddy said. With eyes on his nana, he dipped his first four fingers in again, crooked them, and drank the juice that way, dripping everywhere.

"What would you like to eat?" Andromeda asked Neville and Dorcas. Kingsley held up his hand to pause their answers.

"Andromeda, may I see you in the sitting room?"

She shrugged.

"In the sitting room," he repeated emphatically. He led her from the kitchen.

"What?" she asked, once they were standing in front of the fireplace.

"Am I to understand we intend to stop parenting the boy now Harry's his legal guardian?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" He gestured toward the kitchen. "You never let him eat or drink with his hands and you make him wash his hands when he's caught picking his nose. Now, suddenly, you don't care about any of that? You're feeding him Chocolate Frogs before toast? And you don't care that the girl is upstairs in bed half-naked with her boyfriend, while Teddy's sleeping straight across the hall? Not going to say anything beyond 'it's fine'? Andromeda!"

"What does it matter, Kingsley!" She threw up her hands. "I tried to do everything right when he was small, _I did_ , and where did it lead? All those nights I sent you home so he'd not find you here in the morning. All those minutes he sat in Time Away because I'd told him one too many times to eat with utensils, not his fingers. All those years I spent trying to not only parent him as I thought his mother would, but to be a better parent to him than I was to her, and look where it's led?"

"Woman-"

"Everyone thinks I'm a terrible parent. I might as well be what they think I am. Why disappoint?"

"You're not-"

"It's Christmas. We have him only until four-thirty and then he's gone again. Who knows how long it'll be until the next visit? Perhaps a _supervised_ visit?" She laughed scornfully. "So excuse me for relaxing the rules, but there's no reason to scold him when he's only here a few hours. I'll be like every other grandmother now. Spoil him and send him home. What does it matter? We're not getting him back, Kingsley." Her face crumpled. "No one's going to give him back to us."

"Come here." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight and safe in his embrace. "You are _not_ a terrible parent, as I've assured you countless times. And we _are_ getting him back. It _does_ matter." He kissed her forehead. "But you're right, it is Christmas and we have him for a limited amount of time. Let's enjoy it. I'll try to relax… but we cannot let him regress or act out while he's with us, either."

"Excellent idea. We'll tell him he's not allowed to regress or act out until he's back at Grimmauld Place."

"No, that's not what I-"

"Thank you, Kingsley." She kissed his cheek. "I feel better. Let's try to enjoy Christmas."

"I didn't mean-"

But she was already headed back to the kitchen.

"Teddy, my little love! I have a new rule for you."

"Merlin's bloody balls," muttered Kingsley, following. "That woman."

After breakfast, Dorcas left with Neville for St. Mungo's, where they would be meeting his grandmother and visiting his parents.

They returned, Augusta Longbottom in tow, at one in the afternoon precisely, just in time for Christmas dinner.

"Brought figgy pudding," said Augusta, holding it up. "Hope you don't mind."

"Oh, no, that's a lovely addition, thank you!" Andromeda was in considerably better spirits now, even though Teddy would be leaving in a few hours. She'd loved watching him open his gifts – he'd been spoiled a bit this year, but he got excited over every single one, from the practical presents (thick jumper, winter boots, wool mittens) to the fun ones (glittery gobstones, glow-in-the-dark paint set, two bedtime picture books) from his Nana, to the surprises from everyone else.

From Father Christmas he received a basket of Honeydukes candy, a noisy toy train, a toy snitch that really flies, and a wand that can perform up to five simple spells.

Kingsley bought him a real broom servicing kit and Quidditch A-Z, an easy-reader with a different Quidditch term or famous player to represent each letter.

Dorcas gave him hand-painted wooden furniture for the Therapy Cats dollhouse and Neville gifted him a small potted plant.

"What do I do with it?" asked Teddy, wrinkling his nose. It smelled funny.

"Water it twice per day or it will let out ear-piercing whistles," said Neville. "When it's big, you can sing to it and it will sing back! The green leaves taste like chocolate peppermint. They can be clipped and used in teas or soups, but don't cut the red ones. The plant will scream if you do."

"You can bring that to Grimmauld Place with you," said Andromeda quickly. "Wouldn't want you forgetting to water it here."

"That's what I was thinking," said Neville, grinning. "Harry will _love_ it."

"He'll love the train, too," said Kingsley. "You should bring that with you. Lets out real smoke and choo-choos when it drives around."

Andromeda smirked. Over Teddy's head, she mouthed, 'I didn't buy that train.'

'I know,' mouthed Kingsley, winking. 'Father Christmas did.'

Andromeda and Kingsley also gave gifts to Dorcas and Neville, but they intended to wait until they were alone to exchange their presents.

Now they were settling around the expanded table to eat, all six of them. Neville and Kingsley took the ends, Andromeda sat beside Teddy, and across from them were Dorcas and Augusta.

"These young people seem to be mad about each other," said Augusta, once everyone had tucked in. "Haven't seen Neville this happy in a long time. Maybe ever."

"Gran!" He looked embarrassed, but smiled at Dorcas, who beamed.

"She's a good girl," said Augusta, patting her hand. "Only shame is you two couldn't have saved her sooner."

"Gran!" Now Neville looked mortified.

"She should have gone to Hogwarts when she was a girl!" said Augusta gruffly. "How Dumbledore missed that one, I don't understand. There's a bloody book, isn't there? They keep it secret, won't tell families whether their kids are on it until it's time…" She glanced at Neville, who looked away. "Dumbledore sent Minerva to every Muggleborn in the UK for a personal invitation and explanation, but couldn't send her down Knockturn Alley to ask her Squib mum why she wasn't enrolled?"

"It's alright, Gran," said Neville, looking apologetically at Dorcas.

"It's not alright," insisted Augusta. "Hogwarts failed the girl!"

"I agree," said Kingsley. "But I imagine Dumbledore's priorities were elsewhere in the mid-nineties."

"I'm going now, though," said Dorcas quietly. "I've been studying. I've met Madam Pomfrey. Tomorrow I sit for my placement exams!"

"You do?" This was news to Andromeda.

"Yes. Professor McGonagall wants to know my levels for each of the primary courses before I start so she knows how best to teach me. She wrote a letter. I didn't tell you because you've been…" She glanced at Teddy. "Busy."

"Depressed," said Andromeda. "Not busy."

"Something like that," said Kingsley, before Teddy could ask what 'depressed' meant (and relay the info to Harry). "Teddy, what was your favorite gift? The mittens?"

Teddy giggled like this was the silliest thing he'd ever heard. "Not the _mittens,_ Kingsley!"

The goose, puddings, and sides were nearly gone when Augusta brought up the custody situation, a topic everyone else had been carefully avoiding.

"Did Neville tell you about his aunt who thought she'd do better by him than I could?" Augusta tutted. "Asinine."

"He did," said Andromeda.

"Wrong, she was!" barked Augusta. "Raised him just fine, even after his grandfather passed. Neville's turned out better than any of his cousins. Mabel's eldest boy did time in Azkaban for robbing a Muggle bank – their police didn't know who'd done it or how, but our Aurors did – and both of their daughter had out-of-wedlock babies. Look at Neville, here. War hero, educated, good job, no bastard children, no criminal record."

"I was sent to Azkaban once, Gran, remember?" Neville was referring to the time he and others, including Andromeda, had been arrested for protesting at the Ministry. "Aurors arrested me right in the Atrium."

"Doesn't count," barked Augusta. "He's a good boy. Raised him up just fine, didn't I?"

Kingsley and Andromeda agreed.

"Someone ought to hex some sense into Potter!" Augusta shook her head. "Wouldn't mind being the one to do it, frankly, but he'd have no reason to listen to me."

"Doesn't listen to me, either, and I'm technically his boss," said Kingsley.

August sent Neville a sharp look. "As his friend, _you_ ought to be talking to him."

"I am!" insisted Neville. "Hermione is, too. She didn't even invite him over tonight because she's so sore at him over this! But he's got it in his head Andromeda isn't fit to raise Teddy and when Harry gets something in his head…"

"Stubborn boy." Augusta shook her head again. "His father was hard-headed too. I remember Frank and Alice talking about him, worrying his bullheadedness would land the Order in hot water. But James had Lily to reign him in. What's Ginny doing?"

"Throwing up, mostly," answered Teddy. "She throws up _a lot."_

After dinner, they moved into the living room for tea and conversation. Teddy sat in front of his dollhouse and played quietly while the adults chatted. Andromeda couldn't believe how normal she felt, even though a vague sense of foreboding was growing with each passing hour.

Eventually, it was four o'clock, time to pack up Teddy for the Burrow. Dorcas, Neville, and Augusta said goodbye, though the young couple would be returning later. Augusta promised Andromeda she'd be stopping by for tea one day soon; she said they had a few things to discuss.

This left Kingsley and Andromeda alone with Teddy.

"Tell Harry we'll send some of his presents to Grimmauld Place tomorrow morning," said Andromeda. "The paints, doll furniture, and broom servicing kit can stay here. The clothes, the books, and the plant can go with him now." She tossed the books into the bag with his clothes, including the pajamas he's been wearing when he arrived and the new penguin ones.

"Plus my bunny!" shouted Teddy, as Andromeda was preparing to bundle him up for the cold walk to the safe apparition point. He hurried up the stairs to retrieve it.

"I didn't even think he liked that bunny," she said, surprised. He'd dropped it in the hall the day of the hearing; it had been returned to them later. But Teddy came down the stairs dragging it by a long floppy ear. He then let his grandmother help him put his coat on, along with the new mittens and boots.

"It's snowing!" he cried out happily when Kingsley opened the front door. "Look, Nana!"

"I see, Teddy!"

"I'm coming back, Nana," Teddy assured her. "I promise."

"You'd better not be coming back alone in the middle of the night!" she warned. "I want you home, but I also want you safe. No Floo, Knight Bus, apparition attempts, or Muggle transportation without an adult. Understand?"

"I understand." He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding the plant and bunny behind her. She lifted him up for one more hug, then handed him off to Kingsley.

Andromeda kissed him one final time, and then, they were gone.

The Burrow was a madhouse when they arrived. They didn't bother knocking or waiting to enter. Small children were running around, babies were crying and cooing, there was a noisy hustle and bustle in the kitchen (where Molly was doing most of the cooking), and general merriment burst from every oddly shaped room.

"Maybe you stay with me?" asked Teddy, gripping Kingsley's hand tightly after his coat and winter gear had been removed. Kingsley was carrying Teddy's small overnight bag, filled with new clothes and a few toys, and the plant, while Teddy had his free arm wrapped around the bunny.

"For a few minutes," promised Kingsley.

"There he is!" Harry spotted Teddy from across the room. "Teddy!"

"Hi." Teddy allowed himself to be scooped up by his godfather, but gone was the excitement he used to express every time Harry came to play with him or take him somewhere.

"Happy Christmas, Teddy," said Ginny, smiling. She looked paler than usual, and exhausted, but better than she had the evening before. She was bottle-feeding James Sirius.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny," prompted Kingsley, when Teddy did not respond.

"Happy Christmas," echoed Teddy mirthlessly. "I want to see Mrs. Weasley."

Harry set him down. "She's in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Hugging the bunny, Teddy headed in that direction. Kingsley's eyes narrowed. He was no Legilimens, but he knew the boy was up to something.

"How was he last night?" asked Ginny.

"Happy to be home," answered Kingsley. He handed Harry the plant. "A gift from Neville to Teddy. Feed it several times a day or it screams. I think."

Ginny's eyes widened. "It _screams_?"

"Well, nice seeing you," said Harry, holding out his hand to shake. Kingsley did not take it.

"Harry, I've been patient with you. I've tried to let the system work. I've reminded myself that you believe you're acting in the boy's best interests. But Augusta Longbottom said something this afternoon that sparked a few memories."

"You saw Aug-" Harry started, as Ginny asked, "What did she say?"

"She said your father could be an ass too."

"My fath-"

"You're stubborn, as he is. You get an idea in your head and won't let it go. He did the same, sometimes to the detriment of the Order. You share a hero complex."

"A hero com-"

"He was determined to save everyone, too, even if they did not need or want to be saved. It's not a negative trait, generally. You saved Draco Malfoy when he arguably didn't deserve it and you saved Peter Pettigrew which came back to help you later. But Lord Voldemort used that trait against you when he lured you to the Ministry the night Sirius was killed. And you spent how long in your youth obsessed with Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, certain they were up to no good, when-"

"Draco _was_ up to no good! He was trying to kill Dumbledore!"

"And Snape was trying to keep you alive. Sometimes you're right and sometimes you're not, but you have a nasty habit of ignoring the facts and going with your gut even when your gut is, frankly, wrong. As it is here."

"Kingsley," said Ginny. "Perhaps we should leave this for the appeal…"

"Look me in the eye, now, Harry Potter, and tell me you honestly don't think Teddy Lupin is safe in my care."

"His grandmoth-"

"In _my_ care, Harry. His grandmother and I live together. We are raising him together."

"But-"

Kingsley was stoic, his voice steady, but at nearly a foot taller than Harry, he was naturally imposing.

"Tell me you don't believe Teddy is safe in _my_ care."

"I…" Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I've never been worried about you, Kingsley. But while you're at work, he's left alone with her."

"And while you and Ginny are working, when the season starts again, before she's on maternity leave – where will he be, then?"

"Ministry daycare takes children up to age six."

"And after his next birthday? You'll send him to school? Or one of you will quit working to home-school him, as Andromeda does?"

"I…" Harry glanced at Ginny. "We haven't discussed that far ahe-"

"You know bloody well Andromeda has never harmed that child. She is no danger to him. The only person to whom she's _ever_ been a danger is herself."

"But her actions hurt Te-"

"Your actions have hurt him, too."

"But I didn't mean to hurt him!"

"Neither did she."

"I don't think we should be discussing this now, here," said Ginny, more forcefully this time. "If you'd like to bring this up during the appeal, Kingsley-"

"What is this really about, Harry? Are you bothered that Teddy has a loving grandmother to raise him while you had only a bitter aunt and uncle?"

"Of course not!"

"Are you hoping to do for Teddy what you wish Sirius could have done for you, then? I know he offered to let you live with him at Grimmauld Place before he was killed. Are you trying to be the godfather you wish you had when you were Teddy's age?"

Harry's mouth opened and closed. Kingsley nodded. He'd hit on it.

"We're going to get the boy back, Harry. And when we have, I can only hope your relationships with him and with Andromeda haven't been so fully damaged they're beyond repair; it would be a shame for him to choose never to see you again."

Ginny' mouth gaped too, but she recovered quicker than her husband.

"That sounds like a threat, Minister."

"It's a _concern,"_ clarified Kingsley. He turned to go.

"Harry!" called Molly from the kitchen. "Ginny, come here! It's Teddy!"

Harry and Ginny tore off toward the kitchen. Kingsley, though he knew he should leave, followed.

Standing in the center of the room, his arms wrapped around his bunny, was Teddy.

He had red hair and freckles.

And Fred Weasley's nose.

He was sobbing.

(Though Kingsley strongly suspected the tears were faked.)

"I want to go home!" Teddy wailed dramatically. "Please, please help me! I'm sad! I miss my nana! I want my family!"

"We are your family," said Harry, bending down.

"Why does he look like that?" asked Ginny, staring at him as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Looks just like Fred in that picture in the hall," said George, whose face sagged. Angelina put an arm around him.

"Teddy, could you morph back to your own face?" asked Harry quietly, his hands on Teddy's shoulders. Teddy shook his head.

"I want my house! I want my family!"

"He looks just like my Fred when he was small," said Molly, sinking into a chair.

"Teddy, please, you're upsetting Mrs. Weasley," pleaded Harry. "Morph now, please. Morph, Teddy!"

Teddy opened his eyes and stared into Harry's. After a moment's pause, his face changed again. His hair grew long and dark and wildly curly. His lips went fuller. His nose shortened. His eyes became darker and heavy-lidded.

Several Weasley family members and spouses gasped.

Though none had known what Bellatrix Lestrange looked like as a small child, they imagined it was exactly like this – a pint-sized version of her adult self.

"I want to go home," Teddy demanded. "Or I'll be bad every day for the rest of my life! I'll be badder than Bellatrix the Strange! I'll hit the baby, break my dishes, paint on walls, and say _all_ the inappropriate words!"

"Teddy Lupin…" said Harry slowly. "I mean it, you morph your-"

"FUCK!" shouted Teddy. "FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK!"

"Teddy, stop it!" ordered Harry, holding even more tightly to the boy's shoulders and giving him the tiniest shake. "Stop it, this instant! I'm not playing!"

Teddy's face went ghastly pale. His pupils turned red. His nose became two slits, like a snake. He could not make his hair disappear entirely, but it became very short, the same white color as his skin. Even his eyebrows went translucent.

"You can't tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" said Teddy, poking Harry in the chest with his forefinger. "I am You-Know-Who and I will make you _dead!"_

Harry recoiled, Molly gasped, Ginny shook her head, George cursed under his breath, and together Angelina and Fleur ushered the other children out of the room.

"This is precisely what I'm talking about, Kingsley!" Harry turned to glare at the Minister. "Where did he learn this behavior? What is that Metamorph tutor teaching him? What has his grandmother been teaching him? He wouldn't behave this way if he had been raised properly from the start! He's lucky we've got him now. It's not too late to save him, just like Sirius tried to save me!"

"Fuck Sirius!" shouted Teddy. Behind him, a drinking glass shattered.

"Teddy," said Kingsley in a low, warning tone. He stepped closer. "This is inappropriate. You know better. And you need to stop."

"You're not my dad," said Teddy, but he relaxed his upper body and his face returned to normal. His hair went shoulder-length and wavy, naturally mouse brown, like his mothers. His angry face crumpled into one of sheer despair. "I don't have a dad. I don't have a mum. I don't have a nana or a godfather or a… a…" He looked up at Kingsley. "Or a Minister for Magic." The tears were starting again, but this time they were real. Teddy pushed past Harry and lifted his arms, wanting to be held by Kingsley.

"I'm sorry I'm bad!"

Kingsley scooped him up and cuddled him. The bunny dangled, held by his ear in one of Teddy's clenched fists.

"You're not bad," Kingsley whispered softly into the boy's ear. "But you know this behavior is wrong. You need to apologize."

"I'm sorry," whispered Teddy, hugging tightly. "Tell Nana I'm sorry."

"I think we should go," said Harry. He gently took Teddy from Kingsley's arms. "Ginny, you stay here. Enjoy Christmas. But I think Teddy needs some quiet time at home."

"My home?" asked Teddy hopefully.

Harry sighed.

 _"Our_ home. Grimmauld Place." He kissed Ginny's cheek and then James Sirius' soft head. "We'll see you later."

"I'm sorry," whimpered Teddy. He rested his head against Harry's shoulder, closed his eyes, and slipped three of his fingers into his mouth, the three he sucked as a baby. Around them, he murmured, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

There was a too-long and awkward silence after they'd left to step into the fireplace. The Weasleys stared at Kingsley. He cleared his throat.

"I don't know what any of you is thinking at the moment, but I assure you, neither Andromeda or I taught him to morph himself to look like Bellatrix Lestrange or Lord Voldemort. I've _never_ seen him do that before."

"He's behaving like a... like a..." Ginny let out a frustrated puff of air. "A rotten little monster!"

"Hardly," said Kingsley. "He's acting out, that's all."

"Is he… unwell?" asked Molly carefully. "I don't mean to be unkind, but... madness… it runs in his grandmother's family."

"He's not mad," said Kingsley dismissively. "He's hurting. He's had a difficult year. He needs stability and-"

"And that's what he'll get at home with us," said Ginny. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday, about not wanting him in our care. Clearly, Harry was right. Teddy is difficult, but he needs a good home. And that is exactly what we'll be providing for him!"

Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel one of those tension headaches forming; it would be a long night if he didn't manage to stave it off.

As much as it pained him to leave on that note, he said goodnight and exited through the front door, intending to apparate back to the safe point near his home, beyond the protective barriers, and walk from there. It was still snowing; his hat and coat were thoroughly damp by the time he stepped back into the house. He found Andromeda in the kitchen.

"You were gone a long time," she said. She had her hands wrapped around mug of hot tea. She accioed over another for him. He settled across from her. "Were you enjoying it? Were they friendly toward you? How was Teddy?"

"You look beautiful. Let's forget the tea and go upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"I'll pleasure you – orally – until you're too sated to stay awake another moment, and in the morning I'll tell you about-"

"Kingsley, what happened at the Burrow?"

He tried to keep an impassive expression. "At the Burrow? I released Harry to his godfather." He stood. "You and I haven't exchanged gifts yet. Let's do that, then go upstairs and-"

"Why are you trying to distract me?" She stood too, taking his cold hands between her own. "What happened at the Burrow?"

"Harry was happy to see Teddy. Teddy was less happy to see Harry. When was the last time we made love, woman? It's been weeks. I need you."

"Kingsley." She cupped his face. "Look into my eyes and tell me nothing terrible happened at the-"

"I'm not looking into your eyes!" He backed away. "You're a Legilimens. I'm not falling for that."

"Tell me what happened at the Burrow, Kingsley!"

"You don't want to know."

She sighed, returned to her chair, and wrapped her hands around the warm mug. "That bad?"

"I don't know how it started because I was engaged in a private conversation with the Potters, but it ended with your grandson's face morphed to look like that of Lord Voldemort and telling Harry he wanted him dead."

"He didn't!"

"I wish I could say he didn't." Kingsley, too, returned to his seat. He sipped the tea.

Andromeda closed her eyes, but didn't want to picture it.

"I had no idea he had such control over his facial features. Or that he knew what Lord Voldemort looked like. There are few photographs."

"There was one printed in the Prophet on the anniversary this year," explained Kingsley. "Front page. Poor taste. Caused quite the outrage. Hundreds of angry letters sent to their offices. Teddy saw it at your sister's. She threw it into the fire and he had a few nightmares, but by the time you were released, I suppose I'd forgotten…"

He went on to tell her the entire encounter at the Burrow, from his conversation with the Potters to the awful behavior Teddy exhibited. By the time he was done, she thought she might be headed for a stress headache too.

Andromeda refreshed the tea and summoned over a package of Cauldron Cakes. Kingsley took one.

"I have an idea," said Andromeda. "Let's eat until we're sick. Then, if you still want sex, you can fuck me until you fall asleep. Even if I fall asleep first. I give you permission."

He chuckled. "No, thank you. Tempting as that offer is, I'll stop after the 'eating until we're sick' portion of the evening and save the rest for another time."

"I _do_ need a distraction, though. It's too early too turn in." She popped a bite of Cauldron Cake into her mouth.

"Wizard's Chess?" he suggested. She shook her head.

"Scrabble?" she requested. He groaned.

"You intend to torture me on _Christmas?"_

"Fine," she said. "Finger paints? I know where Teddy keeps them."

"We could try something new…" He summoned over another package of Cauldron Cakes, as his was almost gone. "And you could open one of your gifts…"

"I'm intrigued."

He smiled, left the room, and returned shortly thereafter with a square, wrapped box.

She tore off the paper. It was a black box which read, 221b Baker Street.

"What's this?"

"Mystery board game. Similar to Cluedo, but we skulk about London trying to solve Sherlock Holmes' cases."

Her face relaxed into a grin. "Fascinating!

Nearly three hours later, they were just finishing their second game when the front door creaked open. A moment later, they could hear Neville and Dorcas laughing in the hall.

"Andromeda?" called Dorcas.

"In here!" called Andromeda.

They hurried in.

"How was your evening?" asked Kingsley. As the loser (twice) he was on clean up duty. Though he wasn't too sore about it; he'd expected it to by right up her alley.

"Oh, Andromeda! We went to Malfoy Manor and had puddings and cakes with Hermione, Draco, Luna and boyfriend Rolf, Draco's mate Goyle, his wife, plus Astoria, her new girlfriend… so many people! And it was wonderful!" She spun in a circle. "We played party games, there was music and dancing, and I did not drink a single drop of champagne because I know it makes women sick every time, like you told me. I warned the other girls, too, but they sipped some anyway." Dorcas shook her head pityingly. "They won't be well in the morning!"

"You're perfect, Dorcas." Andromeda, smiling (somewhat sadly), rose and placed her mug in the sink to be cleaned tomorrow. She did the same with Kingsley's and kissed both Dorcas and Neville once on the cheek. "Happy Christmas. If you choose to spend the night here, together, it's fine with us." She glanced at Kingsley. "Isn't it?"

"Provided she's well rested for her exams tomorrow," he said. He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of the girl's head. "And eat a decent breakfast in the morning. You won't be able to concentrate if your stomach is grumbling."

"I will," Dorcas promised.

"Goodnight," said Neville. She and Kingsley said the same.

They could still hear Dorcas and Neville talking and laughing when they entered their room. She shut the door, blocking out the sound, and slipped her arms around his waist. She guided his head back and pressed a kiss to his Adam's apple.

"Do you want your gifts tomorrow or tonight?"

"You're all I need tonight."

She snorted. He laughed.

"I was trying to be romantic, Andromeda."

"Oh. Well done, then."

"I want my presents tonight." He scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed. "Unless one of them is sex, in which case, I'll take a postponement until tomorrow. I'm tired."

"Too tired for sex but not too tired to toss me on the bed?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"I said tired, not weak."

"You know I'd never label you weak, Minister." She stretched, reached over to her bedside table, and removed from it two small wrapped packages. "There's a larger one hidden under the bed, but you may start with these."

He went to the wardrobe and returned to the bed with two gift-wrapped boxes.

"You start." She handed him the smallest of her three. He opened it to find a small bottle of cologne, his favorite brand.

"You were running low," she explained. "And I like the way you smell."

"Funny you should mention..." He handed her the smaller box. She opened it.

"Oh! Black Orchid Awakening! I haven't worn this scene since... since...?"

"Since our first date, when we left dinner to have ice cream at my home instead. You'd borrowed it from-"

"Narcissa, yes. She gave me what was left in her bottle. I loved that scent but I can't afford... this is quite expensive."

"I hope you'll enjoy wearing it. Perhaps with nothing else." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She laughed.

"I will."

Her next gift to him, she explained, was really for both of them.

He carefully unwrapped the packaged, opened the box, and pulled out a silicone u-shaped purple item.

"What is it?"

"It's... I wear it, see, this part goes... inside... and this stimulates externally... and it vibrates. During intercourse. It's from the Fuzzy Minx. I took Dorcas back there a fortnight ago. She needed new reading material."

"Glad you're working on expanding her mind," he said, rolling his eyes.

"The salesgirl assured me you'll enjoy it. It will touch flush against your shaft, here..." She touched him through his trousers. "And when you're inside me..."

"Don't tell me more. Let me see for myself, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." She smiled as he kissed her cheek, leaned past her, and slipped it into her bedside table drawer with their other 'grown up toys,' the ones Teddy was not permitted to touch.

His last gift to her was an antique gilded hand mirror.

"I know how you feel about mirrors," he said. "But I need you to know how beautiful you are, and I thought, if you looked at yourself more, you might see..."

She was looking at herself now.

"I look old."

"You don't."

"There are bags under my eyes. I look tired."

"You are tired. I'm tired. We're both tired." He moved behind her, gently pulled her hair back away from her face, and cupped her chin. "I don't want you to loathe the person you see."

"I don't see _her,"_ said Andromeda softly. "My hair is going gray. More than it was even a few months ago. See, here, at the crown? And at the temples?"

"Silver," corrected Kingsley. "it's quite becoming."

"And I have little wrinkles..." She touched the corners of her eyes. "Crows feet."

"Laugh lines."

"You see this tiny scar here?" She traced a faint white line above the bridge of her nose. "Got that the time Nymphadora threw a tantrum and blew up the breadbox in a fit of unintentional magic. I'd forgotten it was there. I look at myself so rarely, and never this close up or for any length of time. It's almost invisible. Less noticeable than a cat scratch. I was quite self-conscious about it when she was young. Was it ever as bad as I thought it was?"

"You are beautiful." He spoke directly into her ear, his voice low, his breath tickling her cheek. "This mirror was said to have been owned by Persephone the Wise, one of Hogwarts' earliest students, a Ravenclaw, and a direct descendent of Helen of Troy."

"You gave me a piece of history." She tried to frown at him. "You know I can't destroy this mirror in a fit of rage knowing where it came from."

"I know." He pressed his lips to hers. "I love that you appreciate history. And I love your silver hair, crows feet, and little breadbox scar."

She smiled. "Your last present is under the bed."

He climbed under to retrieve it rather than accioing it with his wand. It was long, thin. He thought he knew what it might be... He tore off the paper quickly, like an excited child.

"A Comet Deluxe! This is the newest model!"

"Nymphadora swore by Comets, even though hers was old, secondhand. Teddy told me this was the one you'd like best. Look." She tapped the handle, where Kingsley's initials were engraved, just as he'd had Teddy's done. "I thought a Quidditch coach ought to have a decent broom, not that old Cleansweep you've had since Hogwarts. Unless you don't like it."

"I love it!" This time they kissed longer. He was just rethinking being 'too tired' to try out that vibrating gift when she pulled away.

"I love the board game. I love the perfume. I might even love the mirror. And I love you. I love that you tried to intimidate Harry Potter into returning Teddy, even though it didn't work."

"I love that you're not angry with me."

She chuckled. "I love that you're not as perfect and powerful as I thought you were when I first fell in love with you."

"I love that you're stronger than anyone should have to be." He pulled her into his lap, so she was straddling him. "On Monday, the appeals process will officially commence."

"I'm ready. This time, we'll win it." She rested her forehead against the crux of his shoulder. "Teddy may be a rotten little monster, but he's _our_ rotten little monster."

Kingsley laughed.

"Happy Christmas, Andromeda."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you so much for the reception to the last chapter! This marks the start of Part Four, the final part, which will also be twelve chapters and which will end at the same time of year as Stages of Grief did (with Draco and Hermione's wedding). Upcoming: the appeals process, an explanation of Narcissa's situation, Dorcas' education and progressing relationship with Neville, Hestia's baby's birth, and more therapy, because, frankly, these people are all in need (Teddy included). Thank you to Chapter 38's reviewers: **clarasnotlikely, Banglabou, albe-chan, hule, lilikaco, NazChick, AstoriaRedfern,** and **Francine Hibiscus**! I appreciate every review and read them several times each! And thanks to everyone reading this fic.

Note: Tonks' broom really was an old Comet, as shows in OoTP. 221b Baker Street is a real board game, but the cereal and toaster pastries are based on ones I found online on a British article about unhealthy breakfast foods brought over from America (oops!) and the juice flavors come from a real (unnamed) juice brand, so don't blame me for the weird fruit/veggie combos! lol.

 **-AL**


	40. Part Four: Week 1

**CHAPTER FORTY**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK ONE**

Between Boxing Day and New Year's Eve, Andromeda was permitted but one single hour-long supervised visit with Teddy. It was held on Monday, a few days before New Year's Eve, and she and Kingsley had had to push for it.

A representative from the Ministry accompanied the boy from Grimmauld Place to her backyard via Portkey, not Teddy's favorite way to travel (he vomited upon arrival) and had strict orders to return him as soon as their time was up.

"This is ridiculous, McMorran," said Kingsley, when the young man insisted he couldn't leave the Teddy's side. "At least come into the kitchen so they can have a bit of time alone together. Have a Cauldron Cake."

"With all due respect, I've been given strict orders to have eyes on the minor child at all times, sir."

"By...?"

"By the partial Wizengamot and by Harry Potter himself, sir."

Kingsley scoffed. "As Minister for Magic, I am the head of the full Wizengamot, not to mention Harry Potter's boss's boss, and I am giving you a direct order. Into the kitchen."

McMoran started to follow, but doubled back, clearly anxious.

"He's fine with me," Andromeda assured him, trying not to let on how furious and hurt she was that she'd even been appointed a watcher. She knelt on the floor opposite Teddy, who was checking on all of his Therapy Cats, apologizing to them for his absence. "Please, Sean? _You know me."_ (THey'd worked together at St. Mungo's, before he'd gotten into Auror training in the spring.) "You know he's in no danger. Please?"

"I suppose… a cup of tea… wouldn't hurt," said McMorran slowly. "Alright."

Kingsley nodded. "This way."

They settled at the table, leaving Andromeda and Teddy in the living room playing with Therapy Cats. Teddy suggested a dinner party in their newly redecorated little living room, but then showed his grandmother how Teddy Cat knew how to help with the baby kitten, feeding it a bottle and burping it. He sat Teddy Cat at the table with Dorcas Cat for lessons time, explaining that the party would be "later, when it gets dark." He then hugged the cat that had come to represent Andromeda to his chest and reached for the Daddy Cat, a tuxedo with white paws called Kingsley.

"Nana?"

"Yes?"

Teddy crawled into her lap, the cats clutched in his hands.

"I was bad on Christmas. At the Burrow. On purpose. I thought maybe if I was the baddest bad I can be, Ginny and Harry might give me back for being too bad. But it didn't work."

"I appreciate the effort," said Andromeda. She kissed his head. "I hope you're not being bad for them anymore, though."

"No." Teddy heaved a deep sigh. "Christmas night, Ginny and Harry had a big big fight. She cried maybe a little and maybe a lot, I'm not sure. He said they had to keep me because he didn't want me in a bad home like he had with his aunt and uncle. I don't want him thinking I have a bad home because I'm bad, Nana. My home's not bad." He twisted his body to look at her. "Is it?"

"No, Teddy." She snuggled him close. "I happen to like your home."

"Me, too." He leaned forward to place the two cats back in the house, then wrapped his arms around his nana's arms around his body, his back to her chest. "Harry says, 'Your grandmother should not be hitting you, Teddy. That's not acceptable.' But I telled him you don't hit me, just that one time, remember? That one time?"

"That was a mistake."

"And he says something bad could have happened to me when you got sick and I Flooed to Kingsley at the Ministry all by myself. But I know how to Floo! It's easier than a Knight Bus. Plus, Ginny gets sick all the time. She throws up all day long." He pantomimed vomiting. "All. Day. Long."

"Ginny has another baby growing inside her. Sometimes that makes mummies sick."

"And Harry says it's not okay for me to share my room with Dorcas, but I don't share it. Mine's smaller now, that's all. But it's still mine all alone. I telled him, Kingsley splitted my one room into two rooms so Dorcas has the next store room."

"Next _door,"_ Andromeda corrected, smiling.

"Next door," he repeated. "Like a sister. He said, 'Well, now you have have the room next to James – like a brother. I don't want a brother."

"You don't?" She shifted him in her arms so he was being cradled like a baby. "I thought you wanted a brother more than anything else in the world."

"I did. But you getted me a cat, remember? Meow-meow?"

She chuckled. "I remember."

"Harry says, 'your grandmother has a sickness inside her head, Teddy. She loves you but she can't take care of you.' He also says, 'you're safe now, Teddy.' Because I was not safe before?"

"You were…" Andromeda paused. She had been about to assure him he'd always been safe and that Harry was wrong, stupid, even, but decided to go another route. "Teddy, I was _very_ sick over the summer, you understand that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I didn't have Dragon Pox or Spattergroit. It wasn't the sort of sickness that can be cured by a few special baths or a healing salve. That morning you found me – that was the sickest I've ever been. I could have died, sweet boy, but you saved me by going for Kingsley. You're my little hero."

"I'm your little hero?" He smiled tentatively. She nodded.

"Like a war hero?" he asked. "Like Mummy and Daddy?"

"Just as brave as Mummy and Daddy," Andromeda confirmed. "You saved me the way they saved others during the war."

His chest puffed up, his chin jutted out, and he smiled. "I got to tell Hope. I'm a hero and she's just a girl."

"Teddy!" Andromeda tried to scold him, but she was hiding a chuckle. "Girls can be heroes, too. Your mummy was a girl, remember? And Hermione is a girl hero. A woman."

"But not Hope."

He repositioned his body so he was straddling her, his legs curled around her waist. Her lower back was starting to hurt from sitting cross-legged on the floor supporting his weight, but rather than make him move, she scooted back until she was leaning against the couch.

"Nana? Not Hope?"

"Let's not keep comparing ourselves to Hope," she said finally. "I was sick, you got help, and that saved me. That's what's important. But I was still sick. It took me a long time in the facility to get healthy enough to come home, and I'm still not completely better."

"Getting better every day?" he asked. That's what Kingsley had told him some time ago, when she'd yelled at him for demanding a brother and left the kitchen table in tears.

"Getting better every day," she echoed reassuringly.

"But why did you get sick?" He pet her face like she was a cat.

She smiled. But she didn't have an answer.

"Was it the germs?" pressed Teddy. "Hermione says people have _germs._ That's why we don't lick our friends _or_ eat their boogers."

Andromeda fought back a shudder, knowing there had to be a reason Hermione specifically said the kids shouldn't lick their friends… or eat their boogers.

"Nana, did you get germs? Did you lick a friend?"

"I…" Kingsley's face popped into her mind. She actually _had_ licked a 'friend' just that morning… but she suppressed the memory; now was not the time for it. "No, Teddy. I was sick because…" This wasn't easy. "I was sick because I was sad, Teddy."

"Sad can make you sick?" His eyes widened fearfully. "But _I'm_ sad! Am _I_ sick?! Can I _die?_ "

"No, my little love, no! It was a special sadness. A sadness… for adults."

This was _not_ going well.

But she was too far in to go back.

"I was sad for a long time, for many years, because I miss your grandfather and your mummy, and because I had a difficult life with a lot of… a lot of difficult times… and after a while, I didn't think I could manage being sad, so I took potions to make me better. But they were the wrong potions. They didn't make me better. They made me sick."

"Uncle Severus says we should never, ever touch or drink _any_ potions without knowing _exactly_ what they are and what they do. He said that one time because Hope sticked her finger in his cauldron then almost licked it when Auntie Cissy was asking him about dinner and me and Hope was helping him brew. Uncle Severus said she could have turned herself into a toad! With warts! That was when you was gone and I stayed there a long time."

"Uncle Severus is right and as a Potions Master, he'd know better than anyone."

"Healer Bonham, my feelings Healer, she talks to me about my sadness and that makes me feel better. Not potions."

"My feelings Healer helps me feel better by talking too." She kissed his little nose, which was natural today, as was the rest of his face (save for the pink hair). "Healer Smelthwick worked with me in the facility to feel better, and then, because it can take a long time to make better a sickness that's inside your head, she came here to the house, too. Remember?"

He nodded. "I had to go away every single time except when I got Dragon Pox!"

"Yes, you did. But only for a little while."

"How come your Healer didn't come _before_ you got sick and I had to get Kingsley?"

"I didn't know then that I needed her." She inhaled deeply and exhaled slow. "You see, Teddy, I made a terrible mistake. I took potions to make me feel better but they made me much sicker instead, sick in my body but also inside my head, and when I was sick like that… that wasn't safe for you. I wasn't the best nana for you when I was… that way. And Harry is afraid it will happen again. That's why he thinks he's keeping you safe by keeping you away from me."

"But that's stupid!" Teddy scrambled out of her lap, planted his feet, put his hands on his hips and stared down at her. "You know better now, Nana! You know the bad potions will make you sick so you won't drink them! You have a feelings Healer! You're all better now! Or... almost! Better every day! Did you tell Harry you are better every day? Did you tell him you know no more potions?"

She half-smiled. "I told him. But I'm having trouble making him believe me."

"I will tell him." Teddy puffed out his chest. "Also, I will tell him I am your little hero and can take care of myself so I don't need him. I only need you and me and my feelings Healer and Kingsley and Meow-meow and not stupid Harry Potter who is stupid and not my friend."

"Let's keep that last bit to ourselves. I don't think it will help to call your godfather stupid. He only wants what's best for you." She patted the floor beside her. "Now, weren't these Therapy Cats planning to have a dinner party? Who's invited?"

After a moment's pause, Teddy settled beside her. "I need Healer Bonham to come back so I can pick a new cat. I don't have one for to be Neville."

Two mornings later, Dorcas was up bright and early, excited for her overnight trip to Paris. Andromeda had helped her pack the night before, which included a lovely little black dress and long faux fur coat to wear out that evening.

"You remember the Warming Charm? It might snow."

Dorcas nodded.

"And how to repair your heel if it breaks?"

Dorcas nodded again.

"And you've got the potion? When going away, you should always bring at least one dose more than you think you'll need."

Dorcas went slightly pink, but nodded a third time.

"Come September," Andromeda continued, "I want you to be at school continuing your education, not at St. Mungo's giving birth."

"I promise, we'll be careful!" Dorcas had insisted. Then she'd zipped her suitcase, a Christmas present from Andromeda and Kingsley, and headed to bed early.

She was gone before breakfast.

"I have to work today." Kingsley set his coffee mug in the sink and pressed a quick kiss to Andromeda's lips. He took the last piece of toast off her plate. "You'll manage alone?"

"Don't worry about me."

"You know I'll worry about you."

She half-smiled. "I know."

"Tonight, dinner with the Prime Minister?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "Why he wants to spend New Year's Eve with us, I don't understand."

"Only the early part of the evening. Then they're going to a charity ball and we can come home."

"Home." She sighed contentedly. "My favorite place to come." She winked. "I mean, _be_. My favorite place to be."

He smirked. "I know what you meant."

After he'd gone, she washed the dishes and the floor, dusted the cabinets, and re-alphabetized the cans. She then tidied the living room, did the laundry, swept both Teddy and Dorcas' bedrooms, and did a deep cleaning of her own. By the time she finished, she was tired and hungry and feeling filthy. She glanced at the clock expecting to see it was three, maybe even three-thirty, but to her great dismay it was only quarter past one.

"Damn."

She took her time in the shower, ornately plaited her hair, dressed, and did the Daily Prophet crossword. Checked the clock again.

Two-eleven.

Damn. Again.

How could she kill another two hours and nineteen minutes?

She missed her grandson.

She missed her surrogate daughter.

She missed Kingsley.

And she missed her sister.

She pulled on a pair of winter boots and a thick parka but decided to forgo a hat or gloves and headed out into the snow. Down her front walk, up Narcissa's front walk, to the Snape's door. She knocked. And knocked again. Maybe they weren't home. She was turning to go when the door opened.

Severus stood there, Hope on his hip, Duchess the dog with her face between his knees. She was wagging her tail.

"Come in," said Severus.

"Apothecary closed today?"

"This week. We re-open on Monday." He shut the door behind her and set Hope down. "Hermione wanted to go away with Draco, my other assistant is pregnant, Goyle's got Black Cat Flu, and my new Diagon Alley shopgirl already quit - she said she can't work for such an ornery man and a high-strung woman." He grunted. "Hermione's undeniably high-strung, but I am _not_ ornery."

Andromeda chuckled. "Ornery, you? Absolutely not."

He grunted again and took her coat.

"Hi, Auntie!" Hope grabbed her hand and pulled her into the living room, where a tall evergreen tree stood in one corner with open presents all over the floor around it. "Look what I have!"

The pink-cheeked blonde held up a basket full of dolls in glittery dresses with sparkly jewel-like eyes. They were about the same size as Teddy's Therapy Cats. Hope plucked up each one and introduced it in turn, starting with the one in red, and continuing with each color of the rainbow, the last in black: "Princess Ruby, Countess Topaz, Duchess Gold, Dame Emerald, Baroness Sapphire, Lady Amethyst, and Queen Ebony! They're Diamond Court Dolls! Aren't they the prettiest you ever saw? Queen Ebony has a tiara!"

"Oh, yes," said Andromeda, delicately taking Queen Ebony and examining her as if she were appraising an actual jewel. Years ago, when Narcissa had come to her home for the very first time, Teddy had been happy to show off his toys to his new auntie and she'd oohed and ahhed over every one. Andromeda felt she owed her niece the same.

Severus sat in the rocker by the fireplace, aimed his wand at the logs within, and started a fire.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

"I've come to see Narcissa," said Andromeda, even though she assumed this was obvious.

"Oh, Mummy isn't here," said Hope. She took Queen Ebony back and placed her gingerly in the basket with the others. "Each doll comes with a book that tells her story! Want to read me about Duchess Gold? She has yellow hair like Mummy!"

"Narcissa isn't here?" asked Andromeda. "Should I come back later?"

"That might be best-" started Severus, but Hope cut him off.

"Mummy is gone for four-to-six weeks, aiding war orphans in Adder-by-john!"

"She's-?"

 _"Azerbaijan,"_ corrected Severus. "It's far away, too far to Floo or apparate, but we know she is safe there and will be home soon, after all the children have been given new homes."

Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. "My sister is gone for four to six weeks aiding war orphans in Azerbaijan? Has Azerbaijan even been at war recent-"

"Hope takes her nap at two-forty-five," said Severus. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion at that time." He scratched Duchess behind the ears, avoiding Andromeda's penetrating gaze, and stared sternly down at his daughter. "In a few minutes, we'll go to your room and read a naptime story, then you must stay in your bed until I come for you at three-thirty."

"She still naps?" asked Andromeda. Teddy had given up afternoon naps by age three… and he'd started fighting them by eighteen months.

"For forty-five minutes," said Severus. "And if she cannot sleep, she must remain quiet in her bed, resting."

"Proper sleep is essential to brain development," recited Hope, nodding seriously. Andromeda fought the urge to roll her eyes, as she knew Teddy would were he present.

Severus pet the dog and stared into the fireplace while Hope showed her auntie the rest of her Christmas gifts until it was time to head upstairs. To pass the time while waiting, Andromeda flipped through a couple of the Diamond Court Dolls books. In each one, the doe-eyed protagonist got herself into a fix and felt all hope was lost until a a man – knight, duke, prince, king – came to save the day. Then they kissed and fell in love, married if they weren't already or had a child if they were, and lived happily ever after.

"Utter rubbish," she muttered, glad to be raising a boy – and glad Nymphadora hadn't been into this nonsense.

Severus returned about ten minutes later

"Dorcas would probably love these," said Andromeda, holding up The Quizzical Quest of Queen Ebony. "Depressingly, I think they're both her favorite genre and written at about her reading level. They say 8-plus on the back. I assume Hope isn't reading them to herself?"

"No, she insists we do it." He took the book and sneered down at the cover. "She saw these while at the bookstore with Draco a fortnight ago and fell in love, so Father Christmas brought her the lot." He sat in the rocker. "Neither Narcissa nor I like the message they send, but Hope is captivated by the glamorous gowns and flowing hair, so we agreed to set aside our discomfort to make her happy. But we also bought her a My First Brewing Kit, new academic materials, a chess set, art supplies, hair combs, a collectible teddy bear... all of the things she's been ignoring in favor of the Diamond Court Dolls."

"When Teddy was three I bought him a new paint set for Christmas. He ate the entire tube of yellow, stuck the brush up his nose, and somehow managed to drop the plastic palette in the toilet because he didn't think to set it down before peeing. Then, he flushed. Children do what they want to, not what we want them to."

Severus chortled. "I suppose I should be glad Hope's never attempted to flush anything she shouldn't."

"As far as you know," said Andromeda. "Have you ever had a watch or a few sickles go missing? Toddlers love to flush things."

"On second thought, I have been missing a pair of cufflinks..." He smiled and scratched the dog behind both ears. "But I assume Duchess ate them to save me the pain of having to wear them. They were hideous. A gift from Narcissa; I didn't have the heart to tell her I hate them."

"Good dog," said Andromeda, smiling. But, more seriously, she added, "So, out with it, then. Where _is_ my sister? Did she leave you?"

"Nothing like that."

"I'd wager my right arm she's not aiding war orphans in Azerbaijan."

He sighed. "I thought Hope would have an easier time picturing her mother helping less fortunate children than she would trying to understand what 'mental breakdown' means."

Andromeda's mouth dropped. "Cissy had a mental breakdown?"

"Narcissa is… unwell… as of late. The return to drinking, the mood swings, the manic moments, the indecisiveness, the impulsivity… I thought, perhaps, these were side-effects of something hormonal, relating to menopause. I spoke with Minerva about it-"

"You spoke to Professor McGonagall about my sister going through menopause?"

"I do not know many women," he said, his jaw stiff. "She is a trusted friend. The closest I have to family."

"I'm sorry." Andromeda folded her hands in her lap. "Go on."

"One of the portraits in the Headmistress's office, Dilys Derwent, was once the head of St. Mungo's, an incredible Healer ahead of her time. She overheard my discussions with Minerva and suggested Narcissa's… issues… may be more due to a mental imbalance than a hormonal one, especially given the…" He shifted uncomfortably. "The family history of… you know."

"Madness?"

 _"Illness._ It runs on both sides." He sighed again. "The Blacks and the Rosiers, both. I don't know if you're aware, but a number of your ancestors spent time in asylums or went to Azkaban for crimes committed while not in their right minds, according to the documentation of the Wizengamot. I researched."

"All mad here," said Andromeda, taking a line from the Muggle story Alice in Wonderland, one of Nymphadora's childhood favorites. "That's us!"

"Narcissa is not _mad."_ He patted his knee. Duchess set her chin on it, staring sweetly up at him. He resumed scratching behind her ears. "She is ill. Unwell. It's been getting steadily worse, and reached a particularly low point the night the two of you were drinking. Once she sobered, she spent half the day tearfully apologizing to me for telling you she wanted a divorce while begging me not to leave her, and the other half of the day sobbing that she might as well have killed you with her irresponsible behavior."

"I wish I'd reached out sooner."

"Don't blame yourself. She's been on an emotional rollercoaster since -" He broke off. "A rollercoaster is-"

"I know what it is," said Andromeda. "Ted was Muggeborn, remember? We didn't have much money for theme parks when Nymphadora was young, but we took her on a couple."

"Sorry. Sometimes I have to explain references like that to Narcissa. She's managed to live quite unconcerned with the Muggle world."

"I know." Andromeda smiled, remembering the time nineteen-month-old Teddy had presented his aunt a toy car and she'd not known what to call it.

"Two days before Christmas," Severus continued, "Narcissa had a… breakdown. She begged me to get her help, she said she was afraid she would hurt herself or…" He closed his eyes.

"Or…?"

"Or one of us." His ink black eyes opened and met Andromeda's. "Specifically, she said she'd had a nightmare about Hope, about drowning her in the lake at Malfoy Manor. Neither of us think she would ever harm her, but after the dream, she couldn't sleep. She was afraid to sleep, to have that nightmare again. I wanted to return her to the facility then, but she didn't want to ruin Hope's Christmas. Draco and Hermione came to stay with us for two days, we all managed to get through to Boxing Day without Hope realizing anything was amiss, and in the afternoon on the twenty-sixth she voluntarily admitted herself for a period of four-to-six weeks."

"Fuck." Andromeda picked up Queen Ebony and fingered the gauzy fabric of her skirt, just to have something to do with her hands. "I'm sorry I turned her away. I'm sorry I-"

"Self-preservation," said Severus. "We both understood why you and Kingsley asked her to stay away from you. Even though she was not herself when she dragged you our drinking with her, she presented a danger to your sobriety, and it was only fair of you to keep your distance. Though I think she'd appreciate seeing you once she's fully well."

"Will she be? Fully well, I mean?" Andromeda hated to ask, but she couldn't help herself. "I can't speak for her, I don't know how she's feeling, but I don't think _I'll_ ever be well, Severus. My greatest enemy lives inside my own mind. If she's like me…"

"Hasn't therapy helped you?"

"Very much." She thought about Teddy a few mornings before, in her lap, Therapy Cats in hand. "I truly believe in the merits of proper therapy. I wish I'd sought it out sooner. I saw a Muggle psychiatrist when I was younger, but it's difficult to be fully treated by someone with whom you can't be fully honest."

"Our world does not do much to help those struggling with such things." Severus waved his wand, nonverbally Accioing in two Butterbeers from the kitchen. He handed one to her. "Asylums are for punishment, not treatment. The Wizarding world is unkind to those who are different. Those with disorders, disabilities, Obscurials, werewolves… Metamorphs… Maledicti… those suffering from mental issues, depression, grief and addiction. Like you talked about in your article. Sick people. Special people. People who need help."

"Healer Smelthwick says times are changing. That facility has been in existence for less than a decade and it's only been in the last two they've started branching out beyond addiction to potions, drugs, and alcohol. That means there's more hope now than there was five or ten years ago. Children like Teddy are no longer 'magical creatures,' thanks in part to Nymphadora, and-"

"And legislation like the piece Potter's just introduced should make it even easier for people like you and Narcissa to get the help you need, the help she needed after Lucius' execution. The help most of us who were in the thick of it probably needed after the war. But waiting for times to change is not easy."

"What piece?" Andromeda generally avoided reading or hearing anything about Potter, for obvious reasons.

"He wants to de-privatize the facility, make it free like St. Mungo's. He doesn't believe addiction counseling and mental health services should only be for those able to afford special care."

"I hadn't heard."

"It was in this morning's Prophet."

He summoned it into the room and handed it to her. She quickly read the article. Sure enough, Harry Potter, Auror and War Hero, would be officially petitioning the Wizengamot to make the facility free and open to all in need, which would also require expanding their range of services and hiring more full-time staff.

"I have seen the benefits of such therapy in my own home, from my godson, a five-year-old orphan who speaks very highly of the 'feelings Healer' who has helped him through the devastating loss of his parents and recent painful separation from his grandmother."

"You're the bloody idiot who's keeping us separated," she muttered, but she had to admit she liked what he was proposing.

"You know, Severus, when Teddy was a young toddler, I thought of Harry as a godsend. He visited at least once per week, he'd take Teddy out to give me a break, bring him gifts - often impractical ones, some of which are still in storage until he's old enough to use them - but he tried. He showered that little boy with love. And I appreciated him for it. He'd join us for dinner. We weren't friends, he was practically still a child, but we were friendly. Now? He doesn't respect me. Or trust me. And I hate to admit it, but I've grown to resent him almost to the point of hatred. I don't know that our relationship can be fixed, but for Teddy's sake..."

"You are Narcissa closest friend after nearly thirty years of estrangement. She's often spoken of how fortunate she feels to have reconciled with you, to be close now, to have her sister back. Not to be overly optimistic - and despite my own conflicting feelings as far as pigheaded, pompous Potter is concerned - but I think if _that_ relationship can be repaired, there's hope for any."

"I love her," said Andromeda softly, setting aside Harry Potter for the moment. "I wish Ted could see us together now. He'd never have believed it."

She and Severus chatted awhile longer, until it was time to get Hope up from her nap. Then she bundled back up, stepped into the cold, and made her way home. She spent the rest of the time before Kingsley's return going through Teddy's academic materials, workbooks and flashcards. Some would be going to Hermione, who had agreed to resume tutoring him since Ginny said she wasn't up for homeschooling as Andromeda had been, and some would be going next door for Hope, who wasn't far behind her cousin despite their year-and-a-half age difference, while the rest would be recycled.

Kingsley came home to find her on the floor in Teddy's room, sorting and sniffling.

"We'll get him back," he said as he knelt beside her.

"It's not that. It's this." She handed him a spelling workbook, open to the most recently complete Fill in the Missing Vowels two-page spread. She handed the book to him. "He can't spell for shit. But he's perfect."

The left page was labeled PETS.

He'd done well with bIrd and cAt and dOg and dUck and hOrsE and fIsh and even came close on "gAOt" and "pArrIt" and "rAbbEt."

Only "mOWsE" had a blank filled by a non-vowel.

"Not bad!" said Kingsley approvingly. "Especially considering where he was at the end of the summer."

"No, _this._ My sweet boy. I don't even know when he filled this out. It wasn't one we'd done together or I'd have corrected it. Look."

The right page was labeled FAMILY.

He'd gotten dAd and fAther and sIstEr and brOthEr and bAby right and done his best on "AAnt" and "OnclE" and "cUSsIn" but he'd crossed out m_m and m_th_r with thick black crayon, then scrawled NANA in the margins.

"Oh." Kingsley wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "You should know, Harry Potter paid my office a visit today. At Teddy's request, the boy's seeing Healer Bonham twice a week again. Harry's finally come 'round to the benefits of therapy, apparently."

"Severus told me, it was in the Prophet that-"

"Yes, I know. I put my official stamp of approval on that legislation this afternoon." He kissed her temple. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but if we don't start getting dressed for this evening-"

"I'll finish this tomorrow."

They met the Muggle Prime Minister and his wife at an upscale restaurant in London. Kingsley, like the Muggle Prime Minister, wore a suit and tie, while both the Prime Minister's wife and Andromeda wore dresses, but not gowns. They exchanged pleasantries and looked over the menu.

"To drink?" asked the waiter, a tall, lanky young man with a small lizard tattooed on his hand as he filled their water glasses.

"A bottle of Chateau Margaux 1787 for the table," said the Prime Minister.

"Sparkling water for her," said Kingsley quickly, indicating Andromeda.

"Right away," said the waiter. He hurried off.

"You don't drink?" asked the Minister's wife.

"I can't," said Andromeda, glancing at Kingsley. "I'm…"

"Pregnant," he broke in. "She's pregnant."

"I'm pregnant?" she asked, surprised.

"You didn't know?" asked the Minister's wife, staring at her strangely.

Andromeda cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, yes, of course _I_ knew, but… I… didn't realize we were… telling people… yet. It's… new."

"Oh!" The wife smiled. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Andromeda and Kingsley together. Thanks to Legilimency, she could hear him apologizing to her in his mind. She squeezed his knee reassuringly; she didn't mind.

"Is this your first?" asked the Minister.

"No," answered Andromeda, as Kingsley replied, "Yes."

The couple again looked at them quizzically.

"Our first _together_ ," clarified Kingsley. "I had a son previously, and Andromeda-"

"Has two daughters." She'd cut him off intentionally. They made quick eye-contact. "Nymphadora is thirty and Dorcas is eighteen. From my first marriage… though Kingsley is like a father to Dorcas."

Kingsley's lips curled into a smile. His hand met hers under the table.

"My goodness!" the Minister's wife chuckled. "Quite an age difference! How do they feel about having a younger sibling?"

"They don't know yet," said Kingsley. "As Andromeda said, we've not started telling people. But I imagine they'll be surprised."

"And you said you have a son?" asked Minister.

Kingsley almost clarified _had_ , but, thinking better of it, said, "Yes, Brighton. Twenty-four. He'll be surprised, too."

"Children always seem to think their parents are 'too old' to be real people," said the Minister's wife. "I was nearly fifty when I had my last one and my older ones were shocked!"

"I'm fifty now," said Andromeda. "And I think it's safe to say _I'm_ shocked."

The wine came then, they ordered starters, and the men switched the conversation topic to politics, but the women continued to discuss their families.

"I have a grandson, too. Teddy. He's five." Andromeda reached into her purse for a moving photograph, as the Minister's wife had just shown her a picture of their four kids. "Nymphadora's son. He lives with us."

"Oh? Is she unable to care for him?"

Andromeda felt a sharp pang in the center of her chest. As much as she liked pretending her daughter was still alive, if only for an evening, it hurt to be reminded it was mere fantasy.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked."

"Oh, er, no." Andromeda cleared her throat. "No, no, it's nothing like that, but her husband passed away when Teddy was a newborn – our world was at war then, and he was a casualty – so she and Teddy... She decided they'd share her childhood bedroom. She works at the Ministry for Magic as an Auror, the same job Kingsley did before he was made Minister. It's dangerous work with unpredictable hours, so it seemed best to just keep them both home with us."

"That makes perfect sense. I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Loss?" Andromeda hated that phrase, 'sorry for your loss.' She heard it countless times after the war, every time she was out in public with baby Teddy, trying to buy milk or a headache potion or diapers or ink. She started shopping at Muggle markets whenever she could help it, to be surrounded by strangers, avoiding the pitying stares and meaningless apologies.

"Of your son-in-law."

"Oh, yes. We miss him, of course, but Teddy doesn't remember him. He's only ever known one parent." This, too, hurt, but at the same time, she liked it. She liked picturing Teddy at home with his mummy, both of them with matching pink hair, perhaps doing an art project or reading a book or chasing a Snitch around the backyard. "Nymphadora is an incredible mother. A natural. Much better than I ever was."

"That's all we can hope for, isn't it?" asked the Minister's wife. "For our children to do better than we managed?"

"Exactly."

"So, what does your younger daughter do?"

"Nursing school," answered Andromeda quickly. Not technically a lie… Well, not _quite_ one. "Though over the summer she found work as a governess."

Andromeda's lamb was excellent, as was the duck Kingsley ordered, while both the Minister and his wife had steak. They decided to forgo sweet treats afterward, as the Prime Minister and his wife would be going to another party where puddings would be served.

"Would you like to join us at the charity ball?" the Prime Minister asked politely, after they'd settled the bill.

"Oh, no thank you," said Kingsley. "The girls are waiting for us at home."

"Only one is, remember?" said Andromeda. "Dorcas is in Paris with her boyfriend."

"The war hero," said the Minister's wife, smiling. "You must be proud of all them."

"We are," said Kingsley and Andromeda in unison. They said goodnight, retrieved their coats from the coat check, and headed out into the cold, where a car was waiting for the Minister and his wife.

"We have our own transportation," Kingsley assured the man, who'd asked if they needed a ride. He tapped his pocket, where they all knew his wand was stashed. "But thank you. Happy New Year, Minister."

"Happy New Year," the man replied.

As soon as they were out of sight of random Muggles, Kingsley wrapped his arms around Andromeda and apparated them to their own front step. They used both his wand and her key to gain entrance.

"I doubt Healer Smelthwick would think it was healthy, but I think I loved that," said Andromeda. She began unfastening the buttons on Kingsley's coat, ignoring her own. He removed his winter cap and sent it to a hook on the wall. She pushed his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and kissed him.

"We won't tell Healer Smelthwick," he said once they'd parted. "How would you feel about a game of Scrabble?"

"Scrabble?" She sent her coat, along with his, to hooks with a swish of her wand. "I assumed we'd go to bed and test out that toy I bought you for Christmas."

"The sex toy or the Quidditch broom?"

"I don't think I have the stamina to ride your Quidditch broom," she joked. "Come on. Let's go upstairs. We can pretend to be making the baby you told them I'm expecting."

He laughed but shook his head. "There's time for that later. One game of Scrabble? Please?"

She whipped out her wand and pressed the tip to the center of his chest. "Who are you and what have you done with Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"I'm not ready for bed yet, that's all," he said far too innocently. "It's still early. Let's stay up until midnight then ring in the New Year by shagging with a little plastic vibrator between us."

"It's silicone."

"I'll get the box. It's under the couch. Kitchen table or in front of the fireplace?"

"Fireplace…" she said slowly. "Wait!" She grabbed his wrist.

He faced her. "What?"

She made eye contact. "I love you, that's all. I want to look at you. I-"

"You are using Legilimency on me and I am not allowing it." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "One game. If you win, I'll make you a hot fudge sundae at midnight. If I win, I'll still make you a sundae, but I get to eat it off your body instead of from a bowl."

"Not only will I win the game, but it sounds like even if I lose, I win. Not that I'll lose." She trailed after him into the sitting room. "I never lose."

"One game," he reiterated. "Winner takes all."

"All of what? The ice cream? Do we have ice cream? I don't recall buying-"

"We have hot fudge, whipped cream, and cherries."

"Do we have nuts?"

He grinned cheekily. "One of us does."

"You're disgusting." She knelt on a pillow by the table as he set up the game board.

He laughed, his big booming laugh, and she couldn't keep from smiling even though she remained suspicious.

A short while later, as the fire roared and the cat snoozed peacefully on the couch behind Kingsley, Andromeda was up by well over a hundred points with only about ten tiles left in the box. The game was nearly over. He had almost no chance of recovery.

"Your turn," she said, as she marked her points for "MANIACAL," a word for which she'd used all seven letters (placed after the M, going horizontal) thus earning a bonus.

"Hmm…" He placed an E under the M in MANIACAL. "ME. Three points."

"You're serious?" She cocked an eyebrow. "That _can't_ be the best you can manage, Kingsley! Was all this a ploy to eat hot fudge off me? You could have just asked."

"This is the best I can do!" he insisted.

"You have six other tiles. What's on your tiles? With an L and T you can make MELT. There's at least one T left in the game; I know because only seven are on the board. I don't have it, so either you do, or it's in the box."

"This is how you play so bloody well, isn't it?" he asked. "You've memorized how many of each letter there are."

"It's written on the back of the box, dear. You could look it over at any time. If you have a T and no L, you can manage MET. At least that puts you on a Triple Letter Score for the T."

"I suppose I could try one other…" he said. He reached into his pocket and placed something onto the board, right on the blue Triple Letter square.

It was not a Scrabble tile.

It had a thin gold band adorned with an impressive diamond flanked by two small sapphires.

He stared at her. She stared down at the object on the board.

"That's a ring," she said.

"Yes, it is."

"I don't understand."

"Andromeda." He chuckled. "Haven't you been reading the board?"

She dragged her eyes from the ring to his face slowly, as if in a daze. "Reading the board?"

"Reading…" He waved his wand over it, making several letters light up on their tiles. "The board."

She looked down. The WILL in a horizontal SWILLED was glowing. The YOU in a vertical YOUNGER was illuminated, too. All five letters in MERRY lit up; it ended on a Triple Word Score. And now, going down from the M in MANIACAL, the shimmering ME, punctuated by a ring.

"Will You Merry Me?" she read aloud, as if she didn't quite understand the words.

"I couldn't get an A all game and if I waited too long, there wouldn't be room to use the rest of those letters. Had to settle for MERRY… but I assume you can work it out given context clues." He tapped the ring.

Her lip quivered and her eyes widened. "You're using a game of Scrabble to ask me to _marry_ you?"

"Yes."

She covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes went watery.

"Will you?" he asked.

"Marry you?" she asked, muffled by her hands.

He nodded.

"Kingsley." She cupped his face. "This is… you… I… Oh!"

"Andromeda…"

"Shh." She placed a finger over his lips. "It's _my_ turn. You earned three points." She looked down at her collection of letters, selected two, and put them on either side of the E in ME. One was the S. The other was blank.

"I've been holding onto that all game," she said, touching it. "Saving it, in case I needed to go out with seven letters or risked not finishing first."

"You know I always make sure you finish first," he quipped.

She let out a short burst of laughter, but it sounded almost like a sob. "It's a Y. In case that wasn't clear. Y. E. S."

"Your S is on a Double Letter score," he replied. "But the Blank doesn't give you any points. You're sure you want to do this? You don't have a T or L in your tiles to make TES or LES?"

"Those aren't words," she said, still looking a bit dizzy. She cupped his face again and shuffled closer to him. "I love you, Kingsley. I should have said yes when you asked me the firs-"

"I should have asked you properly then, not in bed while-"

She pressed her lips to his in a long, silencing kiss. One kiss led to another and another. They were both high on their knees, facing each other, the game essentially abandoned.

"Fuck," he groaned as she finally pulled back. "I want you. Even with all we've been through, I've never, not for a moment, stopped wanting you."

"I know." A quick kiss. "How long did it take you to come up with this?"

"I would have done it sooner but I was waiting for the ring." He placed his hands low on her waist. "It was my grandmother's. My father sent it directly to the Ministry, so you'd not see the Owl and ask questions."

"You're mad," she said, her voice shaking. The old insecurities came tumbling out before she could stop them. "You don't want to marry me. I'm awful for your career. I come from madness on both sides. I can't give you children. I'm older than you are. I've been unfaithful. I have scars, I can't drink, I'm pale and particular and I have bad blo-"

"Woman!" He tugged at the end of her braid. "Your only flaw is this hyper-focus on your perceived negative qualities. You are otherwise perfect and, more importantly, you're perfect for me. You make me laugh. You challenge me. You're an exquisite cook. You're the best I've had in bed. You're a good mum. And I don't mind that I'm forty and you're sixty."

She swatted playfully at his chest. "You're forty-three and I'm only fifty."

He laughed. "Oh, that's right. I forgot."

Her nose twitched and she giggled, though she thought she might cry.

"I loved my husband, Kingsley. A part of me always will, I think. But I never felt… there's something I feel with you, and I've never before… it wasn't the same. You _value_ me in a way that no one else – not my parents, not my sisters, not Ted, not even my daughter – in a way that… in a way… and you make me feel protected and loved and brilliant and beautiful. I don't know how you do it. But I'm content to spend the rest of my life cooking your meals and washing your socks and being your woman if you promise never to stop seeing me as a person of value."

"I promise." He rested his forehead against hers. They both closed their eyes. "But, at the risk of sounding like Healer Smelthwick, I want _you_ to see you as a person of value. The way _I_ see you."

"Do you know how I see you, Kingsley Shacklebolt?" she whispered.

"How?"

"You're an attractive man. Inarguably attractive. Excellent build, in excellent shape. Your smile makes my stomach flutter. I love every callous on your hands and the little temporary scars that psychotic fur-ball leaves on your forearms after you've played with her. I think it's unfortunate you've not wanted to be a father because you're a natural at it and if Hestia's baby is yours I know you'll be the dad any child could possibly hope for. You're a powerful wizard, not only because you hold the highest office there is, but because you can wield a wand like no other. You held your own against my sister, against countless Death Eaters, against You-Know-Who himself and came out of the battle unscathed." She shuffled closer, so their chests were touching. "Kingsley? My childhood was painful and my marriage was imperfect, and my daughter's murder nearly killed me, but there were good times, too. With Ted. And home with my parents."

"I know ther-"

"Please, listen." She gently stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Even though there were good times then, times we weren't at war, times I wasn't quite afraid…" She took a deep, shaky breath. "Even though my past wasn't always bad, I don't think I ever truly felt _safe_ until the first night I fell asleep in your arms."

"The first time I told you I loved you," he started, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "When Teddy and Hope were sick and you were exhausted, I knew then I wanted to marry you. Hell, during our first date, when we were eating ice cream on my couch, I knew _then_ I wanted to marry you. I've had that ring in my pocket for weeks. When I asked you to marry me on Christmas Eve-"

"I thought that was impulsive. Spontaneous."

"It was." He plucked the ring off the board. "But it also wasn't."

She smiled. "Ask me again, Kingsley."

"Andromeda…" He guided her face gently by the chin until they were making eye contact. "Will you marry me?"

"I'll marry you."

He grinned momentarily, slipped the ring on her finger, then kissed her, a lingering, penetrating kiss. She could taste the red wine on his tongue. He briefly sucked the cherry gloss from her lower lip. Her stomach fluttered and his hands wandered and they were both breathing heavily when they finally separated.

"Now…" He smiled, stood, and held down a hand to help her up. "Since you've forfeited the game, that means I've won, yes? So, would you like me to cover you in hot fudge in the kitchen or in the bedroom?"

"I don't recall forfeiting," she said.

But she let him take the win.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you for reading! Sorry for the long delay between the last chapter and this one. Thank you, also, to the last chapter's reviewers: **KnowInsight, Banglabou, sassanech, FrancineHibiscus, PopularCats,** and **NazChick**. This fourth/final section will cover twelve weeks like the others, then skip ahead like the end of Stages of Grief, so that means there will be 52 total chapters. A whole lot longer than was originally planned (I was going to write 12, then skip ahead to the epilogue/Draco & Hermione's wedding) but it's been too hard to walk away! Thank you so so very much to everyone sticking with Andromeda Tonks, Long-term, Addict!

 **-AL**


	41. Part Four: Week 2

**CHAPTER FORTY-ONE**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK TWO**

"Your recovery is remarkable," said Healer Smelthwick, smiling at Andromeda across the kitchen table. It was Saturday afternoon and they were having tea and conversation, technically a therapy session, albeit more casual than those in the past "Last time I saw you, I thought I'd have to have you admitted for observation."

"I don't know what it is," admitted Andromeda. "I felt absolutely shattered when they took Teddy away, but now I'm invigorated. I know I'm a bloody good parent, I know he belongs with me, and I know we'll get him back. I also know that Kingsley loves me…" Her cheeks went slightly pink at this. "And I know there's nothing to fear in marrying him. I _want_ to. I want to be his wife. I want this life we're building together to be permanent. I want to believe I deserve to be happy."

"And your sister…?"

"Is it awful that knowing she's a mess makes me feel better?" Andromeda sipped the tea, letting the hot liquid clear her throat. "It's just that I've spent so much of my time blaming myself for everything, for every decision in my life, asking myself, what if I hadn't lost my virginity to that awful rat-faced boy at Hogwarts? What if I hadn't gotten that nasty little illness? What if I hadn't run off to marry Ted? What if we hadn't been poor? What if I hadn't had that affair, nearly losing Nymphadora as a result? What if I'd never had a miscarriage or abortion? What if I hadn't started drinking? What if I hadn't let her go the night she died? What if I hadn't kept custody of Teddy? What if I'd never approached that drug peddler or knelt down for him or attempted suicide or gone to the facility… What if, what if, what if. But Narcissa, she didn't do anything wrong. She married a man our parents approved of and kept in their good graces. She lived a life of luxury, raising her one child with a man she adored. Then she married again, for love again, and she's the perfect mum for her spoiled little princess. Her drinking problem hardly exists and wouldn't at all if not for the second war. She's never done an illegal drug, never shagged a stranger, never been tortured or raped or hit or abused in any way, and yet…" Andromeda trailed off.

"And yet?" prompted Adelaide when she didn't continue.

"And yet, _she's sick too._ In her head. Like me. I thought I was being punished for my actions, that I deserved to be treated badly, that I deserved to be abandoned, regarded with suspicion, cheated on, scorned. That my addictions, my damaged brain, my grief – that I deserved it all. But maybe…" She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Maybe I'm not ill because of what I've done. Maybe I did much of what I've done because I'm ill."

Healer Smelthwick set down her mug and laughed. "Merlin's bloody bollocks, Andromeda Tonks! Haven't _I_ been telling you that since May?"

"You don't understand!" insisted Andromeda, even though she was sure, in a way, the woman did. "Narcissa did everything _right_ , she's a lovely person, she doesn't deserve to suffer, but the madness that runs in our family, it's gotten her too, because-"

"Because it's a sickness, not a punishment. And no one _deserves_ to be sick."

"I think I deserve to be loved." Andromeda said this quietly, almost apologetically.

Adelaide reached out and took her hand. She did not pull away.

"Andromeda, dear? I think you're finally getting it."

Andromeda half-smiled. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Kingsley and I went away last weekend… We stayed in a perfectly lovely hotel with a perfectly lovely bed that faced a perfectly lovely giant mirror…"

"You're right, you probably shouldn't tell me," interjected Healer Smelthwick, but Andromeda kept going.

"And we had perfectly lovely sex in front of that mirror, and though I was full of anxiety and self-loathing at first, because I saw Bella in my reflection at first, he made me love it."

" _Made_ you?"

"Not forced me." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, he treated me in such a way… He told me why he loved it, and…"

She shrugged.

"I couldn't help loving how much he loves me."

"It makes me happy knowing you're happy." Adelaide released her patient's hand, patted it twice, and again wrapped both of hers around her mug. "And I'm even happy that you're happy with Kingsley! I told you months ago, I wasn't convinced staying together was healthy for you – for either of you – but you've _both_ made remarkable progress. He's much more open, much more cognizant. I think he's good for you. I think you're good for each other. And together, you're good for Teddy and Dorcas."

"I'm not looking forward to adding his bastard baby to our family."

Adelaide sighed. "Perhaps it won't be his."

"I have a feeling it is."

"Then you'll both manage. I have faith in you."

Andromeda smiled. "Glad someone does."

Healer Smelthwick sniffed the air. "What is that delicious smell? The bread?"

"It should be done soon." Andromeda got up to check the oven. Sure enough, her eight-strand plait was nearly the right shade of golden brown. "Two minutes more."

"Incredible."

"I used to bake bread often." Andromeda rummaged in the cabinet for the cooling rack. "I bought a cookbook early in the war, Bread Around the World." Though she was still looking around in the cabinet, she Accioed the book over from a rack of cookbooks on top of the fridge. It landed on the table for the Healer to peruse. "I was anxious all the time, but baking calmed me. Gave me a pastime and purpose, especially as I'd recently retired. This was before Nymphadora told me she was pregnant." She placed the cooling rack on the stovetop and turned to face Adelaide, leaning her back against the counter. "I wanted to learn to bake a bread from every country, that's why I bought it. I managed nineteen, before…"

"Before…?"

"Before they came to our home."

"They?"

Andromeda turned and crouched again, this time opening the oven, and checked the bread again. It was perfect so she pulled it out, switched the dial to off, and slid it from the pan to the rack. Though the bread was best when cooled naturally to room temperature before slicing, she was impatient, thus she tapped it in the center with her wand to spead the process.

"Who came to your home, Andromeda?" asked Adelaide Smelthwick, but they both knew she knew she was referring to Death Eaters.

"I was baking bread when they arrived. Here, in the kitchen. My first attempt at naan." She didn't turn back to face the Healer, speaking instead to the wall behind the stove. "Ted was in the sitting room, He wasn't working either, then. Nymphadora said it wasn't safe for him out at the Ministry, but he hadn't yet gone on the run."

Healer Smelthwick sipped her tea silently, knowing the best way to keep Andromeda talking was to avoid reacting.

"He'd worked with the Muggle Worthy Excuse Committee in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. He hated being out of work. Money was tight. He wanted me to go back to St. Mungo's, but…"

Andromeda shrugged. She cut into the warm bread. She sliced a piece for Healer Smelthwick, placed it on a plate, and put it on the table. "Butter or olive oil?"

"Which do you recommend?"

"This is a black truffle balsamic." She retrieved a bottle from the cabinet and handed it to the Healer. Her face was expressionless, almost as if she weren't there at all, and her voice was wooden. "Put it on the plate and sop it up, don't sprinkle directly on the bread."

"What happened, Andromeda? When Death Eaters came to your home?"

"I was in here, baking bread. Naan. My first attempt. Nott entered the kitchen alone; he'd left the other two in the sitting room with Ted. They came through the Floo Network, even though we'd disconnected. I didn't know it yet, but they hit Ted with a Full-Body Bind. I had the radio on. Didn't hear a thing over Celestina Warbeck." She laughed bitterly. "I've never even liked Celestina Warbeck."

Andromeda did as she'd directed the Healer and poured a liberal amount of balsamic on her own plate. She tore off a hunk of her slice of bread and dipped it, but didn't take a bite.

"I dropped my teacup when I saw Nott. Broke it. He laughed. 'Long time,' he said. I asked what he was doing here. He said he'd been sent on the Dark Lord's orders. He took me by the upper arms and…" She closed her eyes and shoved bread into her mouth.

Across the table, Healer Smelthwick was chewing thoughtfully. For a good minute, they sat in silence.

"He kissed me," she said upon swallowing. "Closed mouth. Hard. I slapped him. He thought that was funny. He ordered me into the sitting room. That's where I found two of them kicking Ted, who couldn't defend himself, thanks to the Full-Body Bind."

Healer Smelthwick tore off another bit of bread and let it sop up the balsamic, waiting for Andromeda to continue. When she did, she was staring down at her hand, massaging her ring finger, where the engagement ring from Kingsley had replaced the wedding ring given to her by Ted some thirty-three years ago.

"They used the Cruciatus on both of us. They wanted to know where Harry Potter was being hidden; they knew we'd been the safe house he'd been taken to when he escaped his aunt and uncle's. When we wouldn't talk, they bound Ted to a chair, then Nott held a wand on him while the other two…"

She stood and spread out her arms like a T. "They held me like this and made Ted watch as Nott whipped me with a nasty little hex of my sister's invention. That's what left those scars on my back, not a Stunner… though they tried a few of those, too. But the worst part… the worst part was…" She dropped her arms and sank into the chair. "He told Ted."

"Told Ted?"

"Ted and I loved each other." Again, she focused on her ring finger. "We eloped as soon as I turned seventeen. We were still in our Hogwarts uniforms when we married. I subsequently dropped out of school, as you know. We were together the first time that night, our wedding night. His first time, ever. He thought it was mine, too."

"He thought you were a virgin?"

"He wouldn't have married me had he known the truth." She smiled, but it was a dark, sarcastic smile. "He never would have married a slag like me."

"You're not a-"

"Nott told him. He put his hand between my legs and told Ted he'd fucked me in the astronomy tower when I was fourteen. Ted accused him of making it up to torture him, to turn us on each other. And threatened to kill him for touching me, even though neither of us were in any position to make threats."

"Did you confess?"

"No." She dipped another hunk of bread, watching the white turn dark purple from the balsamic. "I said Nott was a liar."

"Ted believed you?"

"For a moment. Then Nott told him about the purple marking on my upper thigh, the scar I thought was a birthmark." She pushed her plate away, unable to even pretend to be hungry. "After they finished with us, after they'd gone, Ted told me he had never been more hurt, more betrayed, than he was when he'd learned I was having an affair all those years ago… 'Until now,' he said. 'Now is worse.' They'd tortured both of us, but _I_ was the one who really hurt him."

"I'm sorry," said Healer Smelthwick softly.

Andromeda shrugged.

"No matter. Shortly thereafter he went on the run to avoid having to register as a Muggleborn and a few months later, they found his wedding ring and a few stray bits of his body in a forest." She stood, knocking back her chair, and brought her plate to the sink, sending the bread to the rubbish bin. She turned on the water, her back again to the Healer, and began to wash the dishes the Muggle way. The water was scalding hot. It was turning her hands red, and though the plate was sufficiently clean, she continued to wipe suds over it, continued to mindlessly rinse.

"I never… there never was a time to explain, not really, nor a way to try to make it up to him. He left and I… I have to live with knowing how badly I hurt him. Knowing he died still… still hurt by me. He loved me completely when we married, but I…" She threw the plate down in the sink, breaking it into several pieces. "I saw him as my way out."

"You didn't love him?"

"I did!" Andromeda bowed her head over the sink, staring down at the shattered pieces of green-painted porcelain. "I loved him, but not in the way I should have. Not enough. He deserved better. I wish I could have been better."

"We can't change the past. But, going forward, we-"

"I know." Andromeda rose to fetch the kettle. "More tea?"

"Thank you."

"When will Kingsley be home?"

"Between three and four, I think. They're having Quidditch practice followed by the first three matches, first team to fifty points or to catch the Snitch ends the game, then the winner is decided the usual way. Kingsley said that ensures each match doesn't last hours." She chuckled, picture it. "Six teams of seven small children each, all competing on their little broomsticks… Parents are invited to the matches but not the practice. I chose not to attend."

"You'll go next time, though, won't you?"

"Yes." She placed the kettle back on the stove. "I told him to tell Teddy I'll be there next time. But this time, Harry and Ginny were set to go and I didn't want to be a distraction for anyone."

"I think it's sweet, Kingsley coaching Teddy's team." Healer Smelthwick sipped her tea. "Was that your doing or did he volunteer?"

Andromeda chuckled. "I had nothing to do with it! They asked for coaches and Kingsley jumped at the chance. He set out this morning with his new broom, the one I bought him for Christmas, wearing a button he bought at the last World Cup. He was as excited as a child in a candy shop."

"I want to go to a candy shop!" a small voice shouted. Teddy burst into the kitchen. "Hi, Nana! Kingsley taked me home for dinner and I don't have to go back to Grimmauld Place until bedtime!"

"What?" Andromeda gripped the edge of the counter as if her knees were about to give out.

Kingsley entered next, his broom resting against his shoulder. He wore a cocky smile.

"I pulled a few strings to get him here. Wasn't easy, but I managed to convince them-"

"Ginny throwed up again and told Harry she needed a break," interrupted Teddy. "He has to work tonight and she's got _hyper-misses grave-dingums_. She asked Kingsley to take me for a few hours so she can nap while Mrs. Weasley has baby James at the Burrow." He looked a bit guilty. "Mrs. Weasley won't take me since I pretended to look like Fred and made her cry."

"Ginny has what?" asked Andromeda, looking at Kingsley. She held out her arms and Teddy rushed into them.

"Hyperemesis Gravidarum?" guessed Healer Smelthwick. Kingsley and Teddy nodded. "Extreme morning sickness," she translated for Andromeda. "It can be quite serious, but it passes eventually. Not surprising she needs time to rest."

"Oh." Andromeda smirked at sheepish Kingsley. "I thought you said you pulled strings, but it sounds as though you're doing her a favor."

"Let me be the hero," he said, putting on a momentary pronounced pout. Then he laughed, pressed his lips quickly to hers, and went to the sink to wash his hands.

"You too," said Andromeda, holding up Teddy's hands, examining the palms. "You play Quidditch indoors. How are you filthy?"

"There's dirt and grass to make it seem like outside! Like a real Quidditch pitch! But the ground is extra soft so we don't get hurt bad if we fall off the broom."

"Teddy only fell off twice today." Kingsley lifted the boy so he could get his hands under the water. "He flew well. During practice they took turns in different positions. For the match, he played Keeper."

"Next time I want Chaser! I can score all the goals!"

"He stopped four from coming in and missed only two. I was proud! Their team could have won, but the other team caught the Snitch while our Seeker was picking his nose."

Andromeda made a disgusted face, but Healer Smelthwick laughed.

"Hermione's younger brother is a natural, too," Kingsley went on. "He was a Beater. Our other Beater was a little girl, reminded me of Gwenog Jones. Fierce and fast. Madeline Bones-Macey. She's been flying since she could walk. Next week, I want her to try Seeker. Keen eye."

"Maddie, not _Madeline_ ," corrected Teddy as Kingsley set him back down. "Her mum knows Kingsley."

"Knows you or _knows_ you?" asked Andromeda, one eyebrow raised. Kingsley rolled his eyes.

"She's never _known me_ like _that_ ," he said. "Emily Bones-Macey. Edgar and Amelia's youngest sister." He was referring to Amelia Bones, the former head of Magical Law Enforcement who had been a prominent member of the Wizengamot before her murder, and Edgar Bones, a member of the Order killed with his entire family during the first war with Voldemort. "She works at the Ministry, Improper Use of Magic office, as does her husband, though I've only met him a few times at Ministry functions. I don't get to that department often. They rarely need me; they function quite well without my meddling. Her husband used to work with Ted in Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, though. Do you know him?"

"What's his name?" asked Andromeda.

"Thomas Macey," answered Kingsley. "Tall. Thin. White."

"Oh, yes, the tall, thin white man at the Ministry." Andromeda snickered. "You realize that only describes Ted himself and half the bloody men he worked with?"

"Tom has a mustache."

Andromeda shrugged.

"Well, in any case… Tom played Chaser for Gryffindor for four years and offered to volunteer as assistant coach." Kingsley barely managed to hold back his grin. "We're having drinks after work one day next week to discuss team strategy."

"Oh, has my darling boy made a friend?" teased Andromeda good-naturedly. She laughed. "Adelaide, which of these two do you reckon is more excited about this Quidditch league? Kingsley or Teddy?"

"Me!" shouted Teddy, but Healer Smelthwick held up her hands as if unconvinced. Kingsley laughed, went to the counter, and cut himself a slice of bread.

"Nana, Grayson played Chaser and he scored three times for thirty points! Ten plus ten plus ten!"

"Well done, all!" Andromeda pressed a kiss to each of his clean palms. "I cannot wait to attend your next game."

"Match," Teddy and Kingsley corrected her together.

"I believe it's time for me to take my leave." Healer Smelthwick stood and shook hands with Kingsley. "Good to see you again. And you too, Teddy."

"Thanks," said Teddy. He took Kingsley's bread from his hand. "I can have this?"

He did not wait for a yes before biting off a chunk.

"Owl if you need anything, Andromeda. Anything at all."

"I will. Thank you, Adelaide."

"My pleasure." She turned to Kingsley. "Are you presently connected to the Floo Network?"

"Yes," he said. "We disconnect at night, but you can use it now if you'd like."

"Thank you."

"Teddy, show her where we keep the Floo Powder," said Andromeda, though the Healer already knew. Teddy took Adelaide's hand and led her from the room, chattering on about the match.

"I've asked Severus and Hope to join us for dinner. I hope you don't mind." She smiled. "I know Teddy will be chuffed to see his favorite cousin."

"I don't mind." Kingsley gently cupped her cheek and bent down to kiss her properly. "How was your session?"

"Like having tea with an old friend."

Not long after Adelaide had gone, Severus and Hope arrived, Duchess in tow. Andromeda had spent the time in between giving Teddy a bath, cleaning under his fingernails, trimming his hair (in its natural state, it was almost to his shoulders), and quizzing him on the things he was supposed to be doing in his workbooks, while he jumped in with Quidditch facts and replays of the practice and match every time she paused to breathe.

To everyone's surprise, he was excited to see Hope. He took her by the hand and invited her to play Therapy Cats with him, so long as she was very, very careful with them. Satisfied that they'd be fine for a few minutes on their own (with the dog), the adults moved into the kitchen.

"How is Narcissa faring?" asked Kingsley, who was setting the table.

"I've had no communications from her. They say it's better that way." He didn't look at all like he believed it was better. "I want my wife back. And Hope needs her mother. It's going to be a long few weeks." He sighed deeply. "I'm learning to plait her hair."

"Oh!" Andromeda smiled. "I could help you. I used to plait Nymphadora's, though she hated it. Once she learned to morph her hair purposely, around age six, she would make it too short to braid as soon as I tried. And I used to do Cissy's sometimes, when we were at Hogwarts, because without a House Elf catering to her every whim she could hardly find her own way into her blouse and could not tie her tie."

"She can tie a tie now," said Severus.

"You must be very proud," teased Andromeda.

"I can't tie a tie," confessed Kingsley.

"How is that possible?" asked Severus, momentarily distracted away from the subject of his wife. "You're the Minister for Magic and you can't tie a tie? It's not exactly Advanced Transfiguration. Anyone can tie a tie!"

"The ability to tie a tie is not a requirement for the job of Minister for Magic." Kingsley shrugged. "Andromeda does it for me. And before her…" He cut himself off.

"Did Hestia tie your ties, dear?" asked Andromeda.

He nodded.

"I suppose it's nice to know she was good for _something_ , then." Andromeda blinked innocently up at him. "I mean, something she can do standing up."

Severus' lip curled into the slightest smile.

"Leave Hestia alone," said Kingsley.

"How did you manage when you were without a woman?" asked Severus.

"I had House Elves when I lived in the Minister's official residence. I've since reassigned them to other Ministry positions. Unlike elves bound to a home or family, they work for the Ministry, so it's not a problem to shift them to where they're most needed." He looked to Andromeda. "But any one of them would be proud to tie my tie if I needed it done. The perk of being Minister for Magic."

"Ah, I knew there must be _some_ perk to the position," she said.

"I saw Hestia three days ago," said Severus. "She greatly resembles a Bubotuber plant, so pus-filled it's on the verge of bursting without assistance."

"That's a lovely mental image," said Andromeda.

Kingsley shot her a warning look. She smirked.

"She was with her new beau," continued Severus. "They were holding hands."

"Her what?" asked Kingsley.

"Her beau," said Severus. "Boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Probable lover. You know. The someone she's seeing."

Kingsley's mouth gaped. "How is that possible? She's pregnant!"

"Some men date pregnant women," said Andromeda, rising and going to the cupboard, where she pulled out a tin of chocolate digestive biscuits even though she'd be starting dinner soon. "Why do you seem bothered? You don't care if she's dating, do you?"

"I… no." Kingsley scowled. "But if that child is mine, I don't need it being raised by some degenerate hand-holding wizard she's just met whose name I don't know."

"Dickens Berry," said Severus. "I taught him. One of my first students. He started at Hogwarts in 1982." He sneered. "Speaking of Quidditch, I believe he's played professionally since captaining the Gryffindor team some fifteen years ago."

"Dickens Berry?" exclaimed Kingsley. "Dickens Berry! _The_ Dickens Berry?!"

"Who is Dickens Berry?" asked Andromeda. She set several biscuits on a porcelain plate.

"I've just said," said Severus, sounding bored. "Quidditch player, former Gryffindor."

"He's a Wimbourne Wasp! He's the bloody Keeper!" Kingsley looked as though he was waffling between being impressed and being furious. "What's _he_ doing with a pregnant former Auror? What possible interest could he have in Hestia? She's big as a pus-filled Bubotuber!"

"Jealous?" asked Andromeda.

"Not at all." But Kingsley's face wore a childish pout. "My child is going to grow up thinking _I'm_ a deadbeat while _his stepfather's_ a hero."

"I thought it might not be your child?" Severus took a biscuit off the plate Andromeda had just set down.

"And they were holding hands, not getting married," Andromeda pointed out.

"Dickens Berry," said Kingsley again, shaking his head. "Living bloody legend."

"I can't tell which of them you're jealous of," said Andromeda. She leaned against the counter, arms folded across her chest. "Do you wish _you_ were the one dating the Keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps? Would you like to ask Hestia to put a word in for you? Perhaps if things don't work out between them, you and he could-"

"He's in incredible shape," said Kingsley, ignoring her. "He was on the cover of Witch Weekly not three issues ago, shirtless, broom slung over his shoulder, tattoos across his chest. He's entirely made of muscle." His hand went to his stomach, which was protruding a bit more than it had before he moved in with an excellent cook. "I used to have muscles. How is it you've not heard of him, woman?"

Andromeda snorted. "I don't spend my free time drooling over Witch Weekly!"

"There was an in-depth article about the Wasps!" said Kingsley defensively. "I don't peruse that magazine for the _photographs!"_

"You _are_ jealous!" Andromeda laughed. "I know I should probably feel insulted, but you know I support any and all 'alternative lifestyles,' as it would be hypocritical not to. So tell me, my love, would you like me to help you find a nice man? One with muscles and tattoos and talent on the Quidditch pitch? Perhaps Severus knows someone."

They both looked at the potions master.

"Sorry," he said after a pause. "I don't."

"I don't need a _man_ ," said Kingsley.

"Nor do I," said Andromeda. "But I enjoy having one around."

"Witch Weekly called him 'The Ideal Man,'" said Kingsley, staring down at the table. "She's dating 'the ideal man,' and meanwhile I'm the one who got her in a 'delicate way' and then treated her badly because of it." He shook his head and glanced up at Andromeda. "Don't misunderstand. I have no desire to be with her and I regret having been with her over the summer, I don't want to be the father of her child, and I don't want her to be miserable. But if she was going to move on before the baby's even born, did it have to be with 'the ideal man'?" He set the half biscuit down on the plate. "I should diet. I was winded by the end of practice today. My core muscles hurt from sitting erect on that broom for hours. I'm not in the shape I was as an Auror."

"It's alright, Kingsley." She leaned down to kiss his temple, reached for a biscuit, broke it in two, and handed one half to him. "To be honest, it's comforting to know you experience some of the same insecurities I do."

"We all have our insecurities," said Severus. "I've had this nose since birth. I still can't quite believe Narcissa married me. Thanks be to all that is magic Hope looks like her mother."

"To be honest, I'm happy for Hestia," said Andromeda. "Did she look happy, Severus?"

"She looked seasick. She was seeking a potion for nausea, to help her keep food down."

"Dickens Berry." Kingsley let out a low whistle. "If they _do_ end up married and that child _is_ mine, do you reckon I'll get to meet him?"

Andromeda swatted his shoulder.

Teddy and Hope entered then, both covered in paint. They were holding hands, both trying to look sweet and innocent… and failing.

"Nana? We maybe had a paint fight."

"Maybe?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Maybe we throwed some paint at each other a little."

Meow-Meow pushed between them, mrowwed, and hopped up on the table. She had several yellow streaks on her left side and a tail that was blue at the tip. She stared reproachfully at Andromeda, as if it were the witch's fault she was in this undignified state. Andromeda pointed to the cat and stared sternly at her grandson.

"Did Meow-Meow try to break up the paint fight?"

"No," said Teddy. "She started it."

"Yes," agreed Hope. "Meow-Meow started it."

"Where's Duchess?" asked Severus, looking alarmed. "Duchess!"

The dog came tearing down the stairs and into the kitchen. She, too, was paint-splattered, including several little yellow and red handprints on her hindquarters. Meow-Meow hissed at the dog, hopped off the table, and stalked from the room, leaving little red paw prints on the table and floor in her wake.

"Edward Remus Lupin," said Andromeda slowly, as Severus exclaimed, "Aquila Hope Snape!"

"Teddy started it!" said Hope quickly. Her lower lip quivered. She reached up her arms to be held by Severus. "Daddy, he started the paint fight, not me! I didn't want to have a paint fight! It's all his fault, I swear it!"

Severus picked her up and hugged her, seemingly not caring that his black frock coat would now resemble a Jackson Pollock painting.

"Oh, my sweet girl, don't cry!"

"She's lying!" shouted Teddy. "She flicked the purple at me! That's what started it!"

"No, Daddy!" Hope's large eyes widened even more, making her look like a Raggedy Ann doll. She cupped her father's face in her tiny hands and made eye contact. "Teddy did _all_ the paint fighting, not me. He's a bad in-foo-ants, Daddy."

"Influence," corrected Severus. His eyes narrowed. "Hope, are you quite certain Teddy started the paint fight? You promise you did not flick purple paint at him?"

"Would I lie, Daddy?" she asked, blinking as if shocked by the very idea. "I love you!"

Andromeda bit back a laugh. As Legilimens, both she and Snape knew the girl was indeed lying – though she was doing it well.

"But Nana, she _is_ lying!" Teddy looked on the verge of tears. "She flicked the purple!"

"I know, Teddy." She kissed his nose. "But even if you didn't start it, you shouldn't have done it. You're older than Hope. She's just turned three. You're almost six. You ought to know better. While I'm preparing dinner, Kingsley's going to take you upstairs to get cleaned up and then you are going to help him wash Meow-Meow. With a damp flannel. No magic. But because I love you, I'll clean the rest of the house."

"Are you mad, woman?" Kingsley shook his head vehemently. "I am not helping the boy sponge-bathe a cat! Especially not _that_ cat! She's vicious!"

"Hope will help him," said Severus. He placed her on the floor. "I do not appreciate being lied to, young lady."

"But Daaaadddyyyy…"

"Upstairs." He glared sternly down at her. "And the two of you can wash the dog as well."

Dinner itself was uneventful. When it was done, Severus, Hope, and a happily clean Duchess walked back to their house next door, while Andromeda cuddled Teddy on the couch and read to him until Harry arrived to retrieve him.

It was the first time she'd been in the same room with the Boy Who Lived Then Stole Her Grandson since the hearing in front of the Partial Wizengamot.

"Did you have fun, Teddy?" asked Harry, smiling down at the boy. Teddy nodded.

"Can't I stay the night, Harry?"

"Not tonight." Harry glanced at the Minister, then averted his gaze back to his godson. "You spent the entire time with Kingsley?"

"Yes," said Teddy. He was gently placing each Therapy Cat back in the house. Baby Kitten in the crib, the rest of the family seated around the kitchen table, save for the new Neville cat, as there weren't enough chairs. He leaned against the fridge. "First Quidditch, then home."

"And Kingsley was here all that time?"

"Don't worry, Harry," said Andromeda, struggling to keep from hexing the young man into oblivion. "He wasn't left alone in my care for a single moment. Kingsley made certain he had adult supervision and was safe at all times. Good thing, too, as I had intended for Teddy and I to get pissed, give each other tattoos, and pass out in a snowbank, but Kingsley was here to say no. He redirected us to a new activity. Bless him."

Harry winced, looking apologetic, and she almost felt triumphant.

"I can have a tattoo?" asked Teddy, clearly excited by the prospect.

"No," answered Harry, Andromeda, and Kingsley in unison.

"Oh." Teddy sighed. "I always wanted one. Like Uncle Severus!"

"Oh, yes, that's what everyone needs!" snapped Harry. "A Dark Mark like Uncle Severus."

"Oh, come off it, Harry," said Andromeda. "He's not even six-years-old and everyone knows one can't join the Death Eaters until they're at least fifteen. That gives him nine years to change his mind."

"You're not funny," said Harry.

"Humor is subjective," replied Andromeda.

"You're both acting like children," admonished Kingsley. "Teddy, let's get you ready to Floo. Is all of your Quidditch gear up in your bedroom, put away?"

"Yes," said Teddy. "And my uniform is in the laundry." (His "uniform" was a Holyhead Harpies long-sleeved cotton shirt, faded Muggle blue jeans, and bright pink trainers.)

"Let's go, then." Harry held out a hand. With a sigh, Teddy stood and took it.

"Goodbye, Nana. I see you next Saturday?"

"Yes," she confirmed. She knelt down to hug him and kiss his cheeks. "Next Saturday, I'll watch your practice."

"There's a match after. That's the part the mums and dads watch."

"Then I'll watch your match." She pressed another kiss to his nose. "Love you, my Teddy."

"Love you, my Nana."

He let Harry lead him to the fireplace, sighed once more, and stepped in as Harry threw down the powder. In a whoosh, they were gone.

"Why must you antagonize Harry?" asked Kingsley.

"He started it." She stood and busied herself around the room, positioning throw pillows and straightening books and picture frames.

"You sound like Hope. 'He started it.' But just as you reminded Teddy, you're older and should therefore know better."

"Why don't we go upstairs and role-play?" She righted a decorative candle that had fallen over (unlit) and smiled coyly in his direction. "I'll wear your Quidditch attire and bugger you with your broom handle while you pretend I'm Dickens Ber-"

A pillow hit her square in the face.

"Ow!" She threw it back but he dodged it, drawing his wand.

"I may be out of shape, but I'm still a better dueler than you'll ever be, woman."

She pulled out her own, pointing it squarely at his chest. "We'll see about that. Impedi-"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Fuck!" Her wand flew right into his hand. "Accio pil-"

"Wandless magic? Ha!" He waved his wand and a nonverbal Aquamenti soaked her blouse, rendering it see-through. "No bra, Andromeda? Scandalous!"

"I can't believe you're-" She switched her gaze to the fireplace behind him, a shocked expression on her face. "Did you forget something, Harry?"

"Harry?" Kingsley turned. Andromeda grabbed a pillow off the couch, chucked it at him (connecting with the back of his head) and hurried to the backdoor, grabbing her fleece jacket on the way.

She had already tossed off the wet shirt and pulled on the coat _and_ had four good-sized snowballs formed when he entered the backyard. She ducked behind a thick tree and tried not to breathe loudly.

"I know you're out here!" He had his back to her, making him the perfect target.

The first snowball connected with his shoulder. The second grazed his face as he turned. By the time he had his wand pointed her way, a third was headed for his chest.

"If that's how you'd like to play…" He waved his wand, creating twenty snowballs at once, all in a neat pile, then waved it again to fire them at her.

"That's cheating!"

"There are no rules on the battlefield!" he shouted.

"That's not tru-" A snowball got her in the forehead. "Ouch!"

"Oh, sorry, I'm sorry!" He hurried to her. "I was aiming for your stomach!"

"Shit aim!" She rubbed her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her. She held a snowball behind her back… then behind his back… then, before he realized what was happening, she reached up and dropped it down the back of his wizard's robes, squishing it against his skin.

"Fuck, that's cold!" He stepped back, lost his balance, and landed on his arse in the snow. She took the opportunity to grab for his wand. A brief wrestling match ensued, ending with her pinned on her back in the snow, staring up at him, breathless.

"While your attempt to disarm me was an honorable one, it was also an unsuccessful one. I now have your wand, my wand, an arsenal of snowballs, and the literal upper hand." He squeezed her wrist, which he was holding above her head against the snow. "Surrender?"

"Never."

"Andromeda?" someone was calling her name from inside the house. "Kingsley? Andromeda?"

"Dorcas!" exclaimed Kingsley and Andromeda together.

"What's she doing back?" asked Andromeda.

"She's supposed to be at school," said Kingsley.

"Andromeda!" Dorcas sounded upset. Kingsley quickly released his fiancée and helped her to her feet. They hurried toward the door.

"Coming, Dorcas!" called Andromeda, tightening the belt on her jacket.

The couple found her in the kitchen, crying into a large bowl of ice cream.

"What's wrong?" asked Andromeda.

"Why are you here?" asked Kingsley.

"I'm dropping out of Hogwarts!" she announced, miserably. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose was running, and she had chocolate ice cream dripped down her front. "I'm too stupid to learn!"

"Oh, dear." Andromeda pulled up a chair beside her. Kingsley got two more bowls out of the cabinet. He had a feeling they were in for a long night.

"What happened?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

A simple, slice-of-life chapter to end 2018! :) Thank you to those who are reading! If you celebrate any December holidays, I hope they went well, and I wish everyone a Happy New Year. Next chapter will be posted in 2019. Thanks also to those who reviewed since I posted the last chapter: **clarasnotlikely, PopularCats, sassanech, Kat,** and **FrancineHibiscus** , and also thanks to those who gave feedback to the opening of the chapter on the FB ffic writers group: **Mh C., Leigh R., Rosella B.,** and especially **HeartOfAspen,** who organizes the spotlights.

 **-AL**


	42. Part Four: Week 3

**CHAPTER FORTY-TWO**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK THREE**

Kingsley rolled off Andromeda and onto his back. They were both breathing heavily, sweat-drenched, naked, and spent.

"Wow," she whispered. Her heart was pounding so hard she pressed one hand to her chest as if to keep the organ from fighting its way right out of her body. After a moment, she reached for the remote to their toy and switched it off. The buzzing stopped. After a quick cleansing spell, she placed the remote in her bedside table drawer along with her wand. She wasn't quite sure where the toy itself had ended up after he slipped it out of her.

"When?" asked Kingsley.

"When?" Andromeda turned her head to face him. She was a little dizzy – multiple orgasms could do that to a person – and exhausted. "When what?"

"When will you marry me? I asked you weeks ago."

"When would you like?" She reached over the side of the bed for the blanket that had slipped off early in their encounter. She drew it up over her body, offering it toward him, but he shook his head.

"Now."

"Now? Fine. Now." She smiled, rested her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes. "Should we dress first or march into the Ministry naked, demanding someone perform the ceremony post haste?"

"Perhaps not _right_ now." He rolled onto his side and slipped his right hand under the blanket, resting it just under her breast. "But soon."

"Soon," she agreed. "Sooner than soon, we should shower."

"Shower?" Now he reached for the blanket. "Let's just sleep."

"I am completely covered in salted caramel and cum, Kingsley."

He barked a laugh. "You know how to turn a phrase, woman."

"Kiss me."

He obliged.

Though she, too, would have been content to cuddle closer and fall asleep, Andromeda knew they'd only regret it later. She therefore insisted they get out of bed, banish the bedding to the wash, and shower.

"Wait here." She closed the bathroom door, leaving him in the hall.

"Here? Andromeda?" he knocked on the door. "I'm naked. It's cold."

"Only a minute!"

"A minute?" He wished he'd wrapped the blanket around his body. It was a chilly January night. "What are you doing?"

"I have to pee. Give me a second."

He knocked again. "I can't be in there when you pee?"

"No! It's personal!"

"It's personal?" He laughed. "You can't be serious. I've just had my tongue in your-"

There was the sound of a flush, then the door swung open seemingly of its own accord. She was at the sink, washing her hands.

"You wash your hands before taking a shower?" he asked.

"Please don't tell me you would use the toilet without then washing your hands."

He moved behind her, placed his hands on her hips, and brushed his lips against her neck. "Why bother with all those steps? I would have just peed in the shower."

"We can't live together," she said dryly. "Not if you're peeing in my shower. You need to move out. I'm so sorry. I'll miss you."

He smirked. She slipped from his arms, closed and locked the bathroom door, and leaned into the tub to turn on the water.

"I'm a man." He sat beside her on the edge of the tub. "Men do that. It's the greatest benefit of being a man. We can pee anywhere."

"I realize you're teasing me, but men are disgusting." She kept her hand under the water, waiting for it to go hot. "Completely unrelated, I might as well tell you now, I've recently decided to become a lesbian. That means you and I are officially through. After our shower, I'll help you pack."

This made Kingsley laugh harder.

"You'd be lost without me, woman."

"Because I need a man to be fulfilled?"

"Because you're rubbish at location charms."

"What you lack in wit you make up for in charm." She smiled at him, but her lips went to a straight line when he went to the toilet to relieve himself – something she didn't need to see. She pulled a face and stepped into the shower. The water was not yet as scalding as she'd like, but she let it wash over her.

"For the record, you don't need to pee in front of me, either, Minister!" she called through the curtain.

"For the record, couples ought to be comfortable being themselves in front of each other!" He flushed and moved to step into the shower, but she pointed toward the sink. He rolled his eyes but obediently went to wash his hands.

"I'm comfortable leaving at least a _little_ mystery in our relationship."

"I don't think there's any mystery to using the toilet… unless you're doing it while standing on your head or something equally bizarre." He dried his hands on the provided monogrammed towel and returned to the tub. "My hands are washed. May I join you now?"

She drew back the curtain. "You may."

"Thanks so much." He did.

"You know, you left me a filthy mess, you depraved pervert," she admonished as she soaped up her sticky midsection. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

"I happen to harbor a strong preference for filthy women."

"Lucky for you, you're a powerful man. An attractive one. An intelligent one. I'm going to remember you fondly when I'm in bed with my girlfriend. Shampoo?" She tapped the bottle on the shelf. "Oh, that's right, you don't need it."

"If you truly _are_ a lesbian now, would you mind inviting me to watch once in a while?" He reached for the soap. "When you're with other women, that is. Only that, and that alone, would soothe the pain of being evicted from the home we've been sharing for months now. Especially if she's a ginger."

"Do you have a thing for gingers?"

He shrugged. "I've never taken one to bed, that's all."

"Molly Weasley is a ginger. Should I invite her over, get her tipsy, unzip the back of her matronly dress…?"

Now he was the on making a face. "No, thank you, and now that particular fantasy is ruined. Isn't she your cousin?"

She chuckled. "Distantly. Alright, then. Someone else. Who do we both know? Minerva McGonagall? Cho Chang? Madam Maxime? Rita Skeeter? Jean Granger?"

"Too old, too young, too large, too vile, and too… too closely resembling Hermione." He reached for the soap. "And not a ginger among them, so far as I can discern."

"Look at that! I suppose beggars _can_ be choosers." She dropped her soapy flannel and ran her hands up his chest. "You're stuck with me alone, then."

"I'm content with you alone." His hands went to her bum. He pulled her closer. "Though if I had to pick another woman we both know to take to bed, your sister Narcissa has the sexiest little-"

"I could kill you in your sleep."

"Little husband, with whom she is very happy, though I can't see why because I've never even looked twice at her."

Andromeda laughed.

"You know, Kingsley, that witch I snogged in the pub last month had dark auburn hair. She's a Quidditch player. She might be interested in a three-"

"Don't tease me."

"Her tits were incred-"

"That's teasing." He pinched her arse. "I can't possibly get it up again tonight, which means it's very unfair of you to put images like that in my head."

"My apologies." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Minister Shacklebolt, even though I could never again vote for you knowing how vile and dirty your personal proclivities are."

"I suppose it's good, then, that I'm not up for reelection until next summer. And, to be clear, I love you, too, my future wife."

They kissed. For quite some time.

After their shower, which lasted longer than it needed to, the couple toweled off, donned their dressing gowns, and returned to the bedroom, where Andromeda retrieved her wand and gave the incantation for the bed to begin remaking itself with another set of sheets and spare blankets, while Kingsley tidied the rest of the room. They'd not only left out the salted caramel lube and the toy she'd bought him for Christmas, they'd knocked over some of the furniture in their frenzied, half-dressed, attached-at-the-mouth walk from the hall to the bed earlier in the evening.

"Tomorrow's going to be a long day." Kingsley pulled Andromeda to him, coaxing her to rest her head on his chest. "Sometimes I don't know why I ever wanted this job."

"You'll manage. I have faith in you."

"Mm-hm." A muttered "Nox" and a wave from his wand extinguished the lights. "Or I'll use the Killing Curse on the lot of them and end up in Azkaban."

"Azkaban's not the worst place I've ever spent the night, honestly. The food there's better than it was at that where hotel you and I stayed in Austria, remember? Shortly after we started seeing each other. When you had that weeklong-"

"I could have killed my assistant for putting us there. She swore she didn't realize it was a two-star Muggle-run hovel in a high crime neighborhood."

"Hestia was your assistant then, wasn't she?"

He nodded. "In retrospect, I probably should have had my secretary make those arrangements, not my ex-girlfriend-turned-assistant."

"Probably?"

"Obviously." He kissed her. She draped one leg over his and snuggled closer under the covers. It was already after two in the morning and both would have to be up in about four hours. He had that long work day to look forward to, while she had offered to take Hope again so Severus could work. Draco and Hermione were away and he couldn't keep taking the three-year-old to the apothecary with him. On Thursday, the girl had knocked over an entire display case, breaking thirty-five bottles of hair growth potion Severus' newest employee had just finished brewing and bottling.

"Andromeda?"

"Yes?"

"I wish I'd met you twenty years ago."

She smiled, not that he could see her face, and sighed.

"I was happily married twenty years ago."

"Were you?" He ran his fingertips up and down her spine, content to keep her close. She didn't answer. "I don't ask to be cruel. It's a genuine question. Were you and Ted happy twenty years ago?"

She quickly did the mental math.

"In 1984? No, not particularly, to be honest. I'd been having that affair. Ted left me and took our daughter. I got even less visitation with her during those months than we've had with Teddy. I hated him and I hated myself. But we made the decision, together, to work through it, to try to fix our family."

"Had we met twenty years ago…"

"Twenty years ago, you were a playboy, sleeping your way around the Ministry, and trying to enjoy your twenties after a war that took from you nearly everything. I was over thirty, sister of the most infamous witch this continent has ever seen, an alcoholic with a nearly ten-year-old child and a temporarily estranged husband. You wouldn't have looked twice at me."

"I would have looked."

"I was nothing to look at."

"I would have looked," he insisted.

"We should sleep."

"Andromeda, I know I would have looked at you."

She gently pressed a finger to his lips to hush him.

"Let's sleep now, Kingsley. You've had a long and difficult weekend. Let's sleep, and tomorrow I'll show you pictures of me at age thirty, and you can tell me then whether you'd have looked at me."

"I fall more in love every time I look at you."

She smiled. "You're a ridiculous romantic and I love you for it. Now, let's sleep. You have a long day ahead. We both do."

They finally said goodnight and succumbed to sleep.

Like the day awaiting them, the week before had been long, starting when Dorcas arrived during their snowball fight sobbing she couldn't return to school.

"I'm too stupid!" the girl had wailed. "I can't read or write or add or do charms or brew potions or handle Mandrakes or fly or…"

They comforted and reassured her, then sent her up to bed.

Bright and early the next morning, over breakfast, Kingsley informed the girl she'd be going back to Hogwarts.

"We'll apparate to Hogsmeade and I'll walk you from there," he said.

"What? No! I can't! I'm not smart enough! I-"

"You're going back to school," said Andromeda in a no-nonsense tone. She set a glass of pumpkin juice in front of Dorcas. "You once said during a group therapy session that you wish you'd had good, loving parents who cared enough to raise you right, didn't you?"

Dorcas nodded.

"Well, sending children back to school whether they want to go or not is one of the many things good, loving parents who care enough to raise you right are wont to do."

"If you need extra lessons in charms or potions, we'll talk to Minerva about additional tutoring sessions with your professors," said Kingsley.

"And if you're struggling with the reading, writing, and math, we can hire someone to work with you on weekends," said Andromeda.

"Eat fast." Kingsley poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "We don't want you to miss your morning lesson with Madam Pomfrey."

"And if being around Neville is a distraction, we can ask him not to bother you on weekdays when you should be studying," added Andromeda.

"That won't be necessary," said Dorcas, pouting into her breakfast. But thanks to Legilimency, Andromeda could tell she wasn't entirely unhappy about being ordered around by her surrogate parents.

That night Andromeda and Kingsley joined the visiting MACUSA president and her husband for dinner in Stratford-upon-Avon, followed by an in-previews production of Julius Caesar at the Royal Wizarding Shakespeare Company. Dining with foreign dignitaries could be draining, and in the past Andromeda had loosened up with a glass or two of wine, but tonight she was good; sparkling water with dinner, coffee with her pudding, nothing at the show. And, to her pleasant surprise, it had been a nice night. The play was well-performed, America's new president was a lovely woman, and dinner was delicious.

Andromeda and Kingsley fell into bed late, exhausted, but in good spirits.

The following night, Tuesday, Kingsley and his new friend, Thomas Macey, went out for drinks after work. Andromeda sat home doing the crossword and missing her sister, turning in shortly after midnight. It was over an hour later when her fiancé finally stumbled into the bedroom.

"Andromdena? Andormeda"

"Kingsley?" Groggy, she reached for her wand to illuminate the room. Kingsley was trying to remove his wizard's robe, but had it stuck half over his head. She waved her wand, freeing him from the material, and sent it to the laundry.

"How much did you drink?"

"We went to that new Quitch-it pub."

"Quidditch pub? The one where they show the matches?"

"Bloody amazing what magic can do!"

Andromeda had never been inside the new Quidditch pub, but she'd read about it in the Prophet. Everyone had. Wizards had figured out how to project a match onto the wall in almost-real time, using a method similar to that used to preserve memories in a Pensieve. Everyone in the wizarding world seemed excited about this new magic, but Andromeda couldn't help thinking it was just a weak imitation of the Muggles' films and televisions.

"We washed Chudley Canons get their arses beat by Gwenog!"

"The Holyhead Harpies won?"

"Amazing." He collapsed onto the bed in his undershorts, not bothering to hunt for pajama bottoms.

"How much did you drink?"

"Not much."

She laughed. "I can smell Ogden's Best from here, Minister. I hope you don't end up on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow!"

"I'll have you know, Andormenda, I composed myself with _dignity_." He attempted to roll over but did so too fast and nearly fell to the floor, catching himself half-on the bed, half-off.

"I have no doubt you did," she said.

He crawled under the covers. "I may have imbibed a bit."

"Kiss me so I can taste in on your tongue."

He obliged.

"Now go to bed. One of us has to work in the morning!" She waved her wand. "Nox!"

"Tom's my best friend."

"Of course he is, dear." She coaxed him closer. "I'm glad you had a nice time."

"Nice time."

"Sleep now. Sleep it off."

"Sleep it off," he echoed in a mumble. "Goodnight, Adromena."

"You were close that time! It's _Andromeda_."

"I know."

"I love you."

He sighed contentedly and tightened his grip around her waist. "Love you."

On Wednesday Kingsley met with the Muggle Prime Minister for the fifth time in two weeks. It seemed the Muggle Prime Minister was none too pleased about a serious of increasingly alarming pranks being played on the unwitting people of London, many of whom were foreign tourists, by a group of young wizards calling themselves The Knight Brigade.

On Thursday, Kingsley hosted several meetings at the Ministry, including a long one with a very-pregnant Hestia and her team, as some of her program's "rehabilitated" were thought to be Knights' founding members. Hestia had insisted none of the men who'd been mentored by her employees would do such a thing, and wrote off the happenings as the antics of bored boys, likely just out of Hogwarts, who were obnoxious but otherwise harmless.

On Friday, the Knight Brigade took their pranks to a new and dangerous level.

And, as a result, a Muggle was killed.

Kingsley thought it would be improper for him to be coaching kids' Quidditch on Saturday, given the panic incited by a Prophet article likening the death to the Death Eaters' early murders, thus Thomas did it on his own, though Andromeda was there to cheer for Teddy. Harry Potter hadn't gone. All Aurors were needed at the Ministry, facing this new potential crisis. Draco Malfoy was detained and questioned (quite unfairly, in Andromeda's opinion, as his actions had been above-board since the end of the war) as were at least two of Hermione's other former mentees.

"It's ridiculous!" she said, seated at Andromeda's kitchen table Saturday night. Her mother had come with her to visit, bringing with them the twins, who were now playing with Hope and Teddy in the living room. "They brought Draco in early this morning and he hasn't returned! He's supposed to send me a message by Patronus the moment he's released! How long can they hold him? He's innocent! He has an alibi for most of the pranks, and besides, he would never!"

"They can't put him back in that awful prison, can they?" asked Jean, nervously tapping the sides of her mug with her nails.

"I hope not." Andromeda put a plate of homemade biscuits on the center of the table. "I know Kingsley has to be careful with how he handles this, can't be accused of showing favoritism again – they're still using against him all that he did for me last year and for Narcissa years ago – but he knows as well as we do that Draco would never join up with those Knights. Never."

"Severus went to the Ministry to try to help, but I don't know whether his presence will do any good." Hermione reached for a biscuit. "I dropped in on Ginny, hoping Harry was home, but he left for work last night and hasn't come back yet, either. He Flooed this morning to say it would be a long weekend. Ginny doesn't expect him back until tomorrow!"

"That's why I have Teddy for the night." Andromeda glanced at the doorway.

They could hear the four children giggling and playing pretend in the sitting room. Teddy had been thrilled when Ginny told him he could stay over with his grandmother. She looked awful. Pale, clammy, waifish. She'd clearly lost weight, not good for a woman at this stage of her pregnancy. Though Andromeda didn't say so aloud, she was concerned.

"I don't understand your government," said Jean, looking anxious. "How could they detain Draco for an entire day with absolutely no evidence he has anything to do with-"

"The Ministry isn't concerned with evidence!" exclaimed Hermione. "It's appearances they're worried about!"

"That's not fair," said Andromeda. "Kingsley is committed to-"

"Kingsley let those executions go on for months before putting a stop to them, even though he knew they were wrong!"

Andromeda scowled. This was true, but she didn't like hearing Hermione pick at her fiancé. He had done the best he could at the time.

"Nana?" Teddy entered. "It smells like biscuits in here!"

"Would you like to take some in for your friends?" Without waiting for a response, she put them – still warm – on a plate for the children to share.

"When's Kingsley coming home?"

"Soon, I hope." She handed the pink-haired boy the plate. "Careful not to drop it!"

"Okay!"

By some miracle, the natural klutz managed to make it all the way to the living room without losing his grip on the plate. The women went back to their conversation.

"Draco was never like those other Death Eaters," Hermione began. Andromeda cut her off.

"Oh, please, Hermione," she said sharply. "Don't. You know as well as I, he supported You-Know-Who right up until it was his own life on the line! He was raised to hate Muggles and Muggleborns like you, he's still no fan of Potter, and he received that Dark Mark as willingly as my sister did. He would have killed for his cause same as any of us-"

"But he couldn't!" protested Hermione. "He was ordered to kill Dumbledore, and he-"

"Was too weak. I know. But given a few more years surrounded by that lot-"

"He sees now how wrong he was! How wrong that pureblood mentality is! He sees me, and other Muggleborns, as no lesser than any other-"

"You're saying he changed his mind about Mudbloods after he started shagging one?"

"Better than knowing executions are wrong and letting them happen anyway, to appease the bloodlust of the winning side's survivors!"

"You don't have to tell me about the executions! I was the one speaking at the protest against them when it turned into a riot, remember?"

"A riot Draco put an end to, by putting himself in danger, getting himself sent to Azkaban!"

"Quick to throw up that Dark Mark, wasn't he? I wonder if he learned it from his Auntie Bella or from the 'Master' himself!"

"He's not like that now," exclaimed Hermione, her voice rising. "Which is what matters! He saw the error of-"

"He saw that his side was going to lose and so he abandoned ship, happy to hop the last lifeboat off."

"You know Draco's not like that. And since you brought it up, you're no fan of Harry, either!"

Jean watched and listened without comment, sipping her tea. She had her own war-related issues, namely stemming from having been Obliviated by her daughter and sent away for a year.

"Draco is a changed wizard, Andromeda Tonks, and if you honestly don't recognize that, I don't think we have anything more to say to each other!"

There was a long and awkward pause during which all three women focused on the liquid in their mugs.

"I know Draco's changed," said Andromeda finally, her expression softening. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I… I felt a bit defensive of Kingsley and I lashed out. I didn't mean that, about Draco. I know he's changed. I know he's a good person. He's done more than anyone to seek atonement. His work with orphans, his time working at the Ministry… I'd be willing to wager he's the most successful wizard to have been Mentored by those of you in Hestia's program."

"I worked there before it was Hestia's program," said Hermione quietly. "I worked hard. I tried to change minds, to change hearts. It wasn't easy. Centuries of pureblood supremacist thinking running through the minds of many of those witches and wizards…"

"I know." Andromeda reached for her hand. "Trust me, I know how difficult it is to reject a lifetime of that mindset. That upbringing. And I'm sorry I…" She winced. "I'm sorry I used that word a moment ago."

"Mudblood?" asked Jean. Hermione and Andromeda nodded.

"It's alright," said Hermione. "I know you didn't mean it."

"I meant it in the moment," said Andromeda. "That's precisely why I'm sorry. It just… comes out… sometimes. Still. After all these years. And you know I harbor no ill-will toward Muggleborns or those of mixed blood. But somewhere back in the deep recesses of my mind, that mindset is still there. And that's likely true of those the Ministry tried to rehabilitate, too. Not all of them could be changed. Saved. Look at Thorfinn Rowle." She shuddered. "Some leopards can't change their spots."

"Ginny and Harry are struggling," said Hermione, changing the subject abruptly and lowering her voice. "She doesn't want Teddy. He refuses to relinquish custody of him. It's putting a strain on their marriage. It doesn't help that this pregnancy has her so sick."

"Is Teddy still misbehaving for them?" As much as she hated to think of him staying there forever, she didn't want him torturing a pregnant woman, either.

"No," said Hermione. "Not on purpose, anyway. He's curious. Clumsy. But not bad. She just doesn't think he should be with them. She thinks you and Kingsley can raise him just fine."

"We can," said Andromeda. "I haven't had a drink in five weeks, today. And it's been almost forty weeks since my… you know."

"Harry's being stubborn. He's stuck on that day he came to pick up Teddy and he was crying you'd hit him."

"I did hit him."

"Harry's afraid Teddy's been abused and neglected."

"Those fears are valid." Andromeda sighed. 'Teddy has never been abused, but one could certainly argue he's been neglected. And I can't promise it will never happen again. I don't ever want to _use_ again, but I got pissed just before Christmas. I wasn't even a year sober. As much as I resent Harry, I can't deny he's got reason to be concerned. I struggled with alcoholism for most of Nymphadora's childhood."

"Harry shouldn't act as though he's perfect," said Hermione. "He drinks at parties. And he smokes elven herb sometimes! What kind of parent is he?"

"Probably a fine one," said Jean. "I used to smoke marijuana, and I was fine."

Hermione dropped her biscuit.

"What? When?"

"When you were asleep. When you were little. Your father did, too. I wouldn't call it an addiction, but I relied on it to help me relax. I was still in dental school when you were born; I took two years off to care for you, then returned to finish my last year. Your father had just started his practice. We were stressed. It helped us unwind."

"You both did it?!"

"Yes." Jean chuckled. "Hermione, my dear girl, you're high-strung. You ought to try-"

"I think she and Draco are both high-strung," interjected Andromeda. "Narcissa and I have had many conversations about it. Their sex life-"

"Is just fine!" said Hermione testily. "Our sex life is just fine, thank you, and we are not high-strung!"

"Let's change the subject." Jean set down her biscuit. "How is Dorcas?"

"Doing much better," said Andromeda. "Received a letter from her this morning, in fact. She's glad we forced her back to school.'

"Good, good."

After tea had concluded, Hermione, Jean, and the twins returned to Malfoy Manor, while Andromeda, Hope, and Teddy sat at the table and painted. Kingsley still wasn't home by dinner time, so she left him a note and took the children out for fish and chips at the place within walking distance. They bundled up, though she also performed a warming charm on their winter coats, hats, and mittens.

"I want butter chicken," whined Teddy as they walked.

"Noooooo!" whined Hope. "Too spiiii-"

"I'm not having this fight again," Andromeda cut her off. "We're having fish and chips and mushy peas and if you're both good, you can drink some of my Coke."

"Ooh, Coke!" said Teddy, excitedly.

"My mummy says Muggle sweet drinks like Coke will rot my teeth away," said Hope.

"You can have water, then," said Andromeda.

When they got back home, it was to find Kingsley still hadn't returned. Andromeda gave the children a bath, read them several stories, and tucked them into Teddy's room. She was sitting up in bed doing the crossword when Kingsley finally got home.

"Aurors are working overnight, in shifts, sleeping at the Ministry. That 'prank' didn't result in a Muggle's death by accident; they only wanted it to look like one. They're testing us. I have a headache."

"Come to bed. I'll rub your temples."

"I came to pack an overnight bag. I need to go back." He kissed her quickly and went to the wardrobe in search of clean wizards' robes. He quickly threw everything he'd need into the old carpetbag he'd long kept at her place, when they lived separately. "You'll be alright without me for the night?"

"The children are asleep. Severus is coming for Hope in the morning, and Ginny said she'd send Molly for Teddy."

"The Muggles put it out on their telly. Same as when Sirius Black escaped. They're telling their people ours have guns. 'Armed and dangerous,' they're saying. We think we've identified three of them, but there are at least a dozen more. We want to round them up quick, before those we've caught can somehow tip off those we haven't."

"Have Aurors released Draco yet?"

"About an hour ago. And Goyle, too. But Blaise Zabini…"

"Cissy was friends with his mother years ago. Zinnia."

"He's the first we positively identified, thanks to Draco, who recognized him from a description given by a Muggle witness. We put two Aurors outside the gates to Malfoy Manor, just in case of retribution. There's two stationed outside here, too, and another outside your sister's house, even though Snape's still at the Ministry and she's secure in the Facility."

"Is Severus a suspect, too?"

"No. He's helping identify the ingredients in the potion used to poison the Muggle. It seems the Knights modified one of George Weasley's creations, added to a Nosebleed Nougat a bit of that herb you used to inject…"

Without realizing she was doing it, Andromeda began to scratch at the spot where her track marks had been most visible in the past.

"Dorcas is home. Neville is with her."

"What?" Andromeda's hand dropped to her lap. "Why?"

"For her safety. I've been threatened, and, by extension, you have. I want everyone I care about safe. I even have Aurors outside Hestia's flat. I can't… I can't lose my family again."

She pulled out a couple of tiny hairs along the back of her neck. She knew he was thinking about his son, about the murder of the entire McKinnon family during the first war.

"Is it that serious?" she whispered. "I thought they were pranksters."

"They're worse," said Kingsley. "Much worse. But we'll find them."

"I hate that this is happening. I hate that Draco and Goyle were held as suspects. I hate that we have to have Aurors guarding our home."

"I hate that I have to go back to the Ministry," Kingsley sighed. "I considered making you and the children spend the night there."

"Should we?"

He shook his head. "The house is unplottable, our Secret Keeper is Minerva McGonagall, Neville's across the hall, and we have two Aurors outside plus one next door. If I didn't think you were safe, I'd have you with me, I assure you. And Harry knows Teddy is here. He agreed not to move him tonight, on account of Ginny's health and the strained resources; we can't put Aurors everywhere _and_ have them searching for Knights. Harry… Harry agrees this is the best place for the boy, for tonight."

Andromeda felt sick. The fish and chips from earlier swirled in her stomach, threatening to make a reappearance.

"Will the wizarding world ever truly see peace, Kingsley?"

"I don't know, woman." He kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I'll look in on the children before I go."

After he left, she couldn't sleep. She checked on Dorcas and Neville (the girl was sound asleep, but Neville was sitting in a chair beside the bed, wand in his lap, listening intently) then went in to see Hope and Teddy. Several times. Every few minutes. Finally, she accepted she wouldn't sleep at all if they weren't with her, and she moved the little ones into her bed.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

By the time Kingsley got home on Sunday, Hope was back with her father, Teddy was back with the Potters, Dorcas and Neville were back at Hogwarts, and seventeen young wizards had been arrested. As far as they knew, these seventeen included all of the Knights… and most of them, when threatened with long Azkaban sentences, were ready and willing to rat out the others.

Crisis averted. The wizarding world was safe for another day.

And Kingsley was ravenous. For her.

He was on her the moment they met at the top of the stairs. She'd been in Teddy's bedroom, cleaning. He'd been calling her name.

"We got them," he said. "All of them. You're safe."

Then, their bodies crashed together. Their mouths connected.

And they proceeded to stumble into the bedroom, make a mess of the bed, and fuck each other senseless.

After which they showered, dressed, and crawled under the covers.

"Let's sleep now, Kingsley," said Andromeda. "You've had a long and difficult weekend. Let's sleep, and tomorrow I'll show you pictures of me at age thirty, and you can tell me then whether you'd have looked at me."

"I fall more in love every time I look at you."

"You're a ridiculous romantic and I love you for it. Now, let's sleep. You have a long day ahead. We both do."

They said goodnight and succumbed to sleep.

They felt like they'd lived a lifetime in one week.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thanks for your patience! It's been a busy 2019 thus far! Thank you to the most recent reviewers, sassanech, clarasnotlikely, NazChick, and FrancineHibiscus, and to new reader Lightmyst (taking a break is totally understandable!). I'm so thrilled that you're all sticking around. Only 9 weeks left to Part Four, then the epilogue! Writing this fic is truly a pleasure, dark as it is at times. Thank you for reading!

 **-AL**


	43. Part Four: Week 4

**CHAPTER FORTY-THREE**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK FOUR**

 _The crying was coming from Teddy's room._

 _But Teddy wasn't home. Teddy was at Grimmauld Place._

 _And Dorcas was at Hogwarts, Kingsley was at the Ministry, Narcissa was still in the facility, and Hope was home with her father._

 _No one was in the house. Only Andromeda._

 _So she followed the sound of the crying._

 _She opened the door slowly, wand at the ready, unsure of what she would see. The crying got louder. Someone was sobbing. Her wand hand shook uncontrollably, worse than even an alcohol tremor could cause._

 _There, kneeling on the floor beside Teddy's bed, was a woman. A thin, young woman, wearing a Weird Sisters t-shirt and jeans. A woman with bubblegum pink hair._

 _"Nymphadora?" whispered Andromeda. "But you're dead."_

 _"No," says Nymphadora quietly, wiping her cheeks – but there were no tears. And the crying had abruptly stopped. "No, I'm not dead. But unless you can do something to stop her, someone will be."_

 _"What?"_

 _From behind Andromeda, a familiar cackle. She whipped around, dropping her wand._

 _"Bellatrix!"_

 _The woman looked just as her younger sister remembered her from her Wanted poster. Curvy and wild-eyed, with graying hair, rotting teeth, and a neck tattoo._

 _Bellatrix wasn't alone._

 _She held a small girl on her hip… and the hand of a pink-haired boy._

 _"You can save one," said Bellatrix, grinning. "Only one. Which is it? I know it won't be our niece…" With another cackle, there was a flash of green light, and the toddler went limp in her arms. "But I am curious… will you ask me to spare your daughter, your only child, the person you love more than any other in the world…? Or will you save the boy, knowing if you don't, your surviving daughter will hate you?"_

 _"Please." Andromeda dropped to her knees. "Please, Bella, please. Don't make me-"_

 _"Which one?" asked Bellatrix playfully. She tossed the body of the dead three-year-old onto the bed. "Cissy will be devastated to learn you didn't even consider begging me to spare her child as your about to do your own."_

 _"Cissy… Cissy!" Andromeda's chest ached like she'd just received a Stunner to the heart. Her sweet niece, Teddy's almost-little-sister and favorite antagonist, gone. And Legilimens Bella was right – Andromeda, in the split second after she was given the directive, hadn't even considered uttering the name, "Hope."_

 _"Narcissa always looked up to you!" said Andromeda, as tears fell hot and fast down her cheeks. "She loved you! She opened her home to you! She–"_

 _"She married that traitor and gave him a child. Don't feel too badly, Meda. I was going to kill Aquila Hope Snape regardless of the choice you made, just as I did Draco."_

 _"Draco?" Andromeda's stomach lurched._

 _"This morning. He was having brunch with that Mudblood, Hermione, and Longbottom – felt good to put him in the same position as his parents – oh, yes, I spared his life – but I'm almost sorry I can't say the same for that love-starved little whore you took in. Closest thing I ever had to a daughter, and she went and started looking upon you like you're her mother. Bloody shame."_

 _"Dorcas?"_

 _"Pity." Bellatrix shook her head, laughed, and pulled Teddy close to her side. "He loves me, my dear, sweet great-nephew. Calls me 'Bellatrix the Strange.' Seems odd to think about myself as a great-aunt. Sounds old, doesn't it? Not to you, I'm sure. Nana." Bellatrix snorted. "Have you enjoyed it? Having a grandson?"_

 _"Don't hurt him," Andromeda pleaded with her, reaching a hand toward him. He tried to step forward, but Bellatrix pulled him back._

 _"Maybe I'll feed Nymphadora to the werewolf who polished off her father and take the boy to raise myself. He's a fiery little shite. Has potential, this one."_

 _"Please, Bella, no…"_

 _"It's because of you," said Nymphadora coldly. Andromeda had almost forgotten she was there. Nymphadora stood and moved to stand beside her aunt. "My father was murdered because of you."_

 _"What? No! He… he was a Muggleborn. He went on the run rather than registering. He-"_

 _"As the husband of a pureblood, he was targeted special. They would've let him go, had he not been married to you."_

 _"But that doesn't make sense! I…"_

 _"And how did you repay him for his sacrifice?"_

 _"Sacri-?"_

 _"Whoring yourself out left and right, fucking that blood-traitor Shacklebolt, putting a needle in your arm like some common Muggle addict. Your Healer wants you to think you're better. You'll never be better."_

 _"Nymphadora!" Andromeda's stomach lurched like she might vomit, but it was a dry heave that followed._

 _"Teddy is an insult to our bloodline, Nymphadora," said Bellatrix, nodding toward the boy. "Part Muggleborn, part werewolf… an abomination. You, though? A Metamorph? You're special. The Dark Lord wanted to recruit you. But you said your mother wouldn't allow such a thing."_

 _"I don't much care to consider what my mother would allow." Nymphadora sneered down at her. "You're right, Auntie. This is entirely her fault. My father's death. My son's motherless upbringing. The loss of the entire Black family's reputation among wizards…"_

 _"But-"_

 _"Quiet!" Bellatrix snapped at her sister. "Choose. Your daughter or your grandson. Which one lives?" She raised her crooked wand. "And which one dies?"_

 _"I can't choose! I-"_

 _"The boy, then." Nymphadora pointed her wand in Teddy's direction. His eyes widened._

 _"Mummy?"_

 _"I can have other children. I don't need you."_

 _He was dead before his body hit the floor._

 _"Nymphadora!" Andromeda pitched forward as if stabbed._

 _Bellatrix cackled._

 _Nymphadora echoed the harsh laugh._

 _"She's not yours anymore," whispered Bellatrix harshly. "I've taken her, corrupted her. Made her mine, the way you did to my Dorcas. How does it feel, knowing everyone you love is dead?"_

 _"I-"_

 _"Oh, wait…" Bellatrix pressed her wand into Nymphadora's side. Another flash of green. "Let me ask again. How does it feel, now that everyone you love is-"_

 _"Andromeda!" It was Kingsley's voice, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from. She tried to answer him, but no sound came out. Only a sob._

 _"I should have started with the Minister," said Bellatrix. She turned to face the bedroom door. "Ah, well. Now will do."_

"Andromeda!" shouted Kingsley.

 _Again, she tried to speak, but no words would come._

"Andromeda, wake up! Andromeda?!"

 _Wake up? She rubbed her eyes, by the vision of Bellatrix remained, surrounded by dead children – Nymphadora, Teddy, Hope. And Dorcas. The body of Dorcas was here too, somehow. And Draco. And Hermione and Neville._

 _"Andromeda!" Narcissa burst into the room, surveyed the scene, spotted her dead daughter, and gasped. "Andromeda, WHAT DID YOU DO?"_

"Andromeda!" Kingsley's voice called again. "Andromeda, open your eyes! Woman, look at me!"

Cold water hit her face.

She shook her head.

She opened her eyes.

She was on her back in her own bed, with Kingsley kneeling over her.

"King… King…" She couldn't manage his whole name. Her voice croaked and hurt and her face was wet and she could taste blood.

"Baby!" He guided her into a seated position and cradled her face. "Look at me!"

"Kingsley?" She managed to whisper.

"I'm here." He kissed her forehead. "I'm here."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I think you bit your lip."

A wave from his wand stopped the bleeding. Her heart was beating much too fast, much too hard. Her stomach ached. Her limbs felt sore, like she'd been fighting for her life.

"A nightmare?" she asked, still somewhat 'out of it.'

"Must have been." He gathered her in his arms, coaxing her cheek to his chest. "I arrived home perhaps an hour ago, ate, showered, and came in here to go to bed."

It was now that it registered he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.

"You were thrashing and sobbing, and you had blood on your lip and chin." He lifted his damp towel to clean her face. "I couldn't wake you. It wasn't… you were… Reminded me of the day you…" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat.

"Overdosed?" she asked quietly. "It reminded you of the day I-"

"You were having a nightmare?"

She nodded. He stroked her hair and continued to hold her, rocking gently, the way she did every time Teddy had a nightmare. Her heartbeat was slowing. Her lip felt sore.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About my nightmare?"

He nodded. She shook her head.

"I haven't had one that bad in a long…" She took a deep breath, trying to keep from dissolving into sobs again. "It was vivid."

"Bellatrix?"

"Yes."

"Ted this time? Or Teddy?"

"Not… no." She wiped her eye. Despite her best effort, tears were again flowing. "No Ted. This time, Nymphadora killed Teddy. Her own son! And she did it to hurt me."

"She would never. You know she would never."

"I know." Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Kingsley. "But it felt real."

"I know." He kissed her forehead. "I remember the first time I was with you when you had one of those nightmares."

"In that one, Fenrir Greyback made me watch while he-"

"I know."

"While he ripped Ted apart, then violated my daught-"

"Don't think about it. Don't put yourself through that."

"You held me all night. I couldn't fall back to sleep, so you didn't either. You-"

"I was content to hold you all night."

"You didn't get any sleep." She choked back a sob. "You stayed awake all night because of me! I don't deserve you, I-"

"Stop." This time, when he cradled her face, it was to kiss her gently on the lips, taking care not to press too hard given her injury. "I'm going to put on pajama bottoms, and then I'll return to the bed, and I'll hold you all night."

"I don't deserve-"

"I worked until eleven-thirty tonight. I arrived home at eleven-forty, to find my dinner, placed under stasis and warming charms, waiting for me on the table beside the book I'd requested from the library last week – apparently it came in and someone picked it up for me. I ate while reading as the cat – fed and given water, with a clean litter box – snoozed on a chair beside me. Then I went into the loo, where someone had collected the clothes I left on the floor this morning and washed, dried, and hung my favorite towel. I stepped into the shower to see that same someone bought another bottle of that moisturizing facewash I like. I brushed my teeth with the toothpaste purchased special from the organic market, because even though I was fine with the other brand, this one is admittedly better for my sensitive gums. Eventually, I came into the bedroom to find that my someone happened to be having a nightmare, so I woke her and now I'll be holding her until she falls asleep. It seems to me comforting you is the least I can do, considering all you do for me."

"I love you."

"I love you." He kissed her temple and extricated himself from the bed. "Did you wash my-"

"Top drawer, on the right."

He smiled, went to the dresser, and pulled out his favorite blue and gay pajama bottoms. "Thank you."

Kingsley slipped under the covers, pulling Andromeda to him. True to his word, he held her all night, rubbing her back and telling her about his dull work day in a soporific drone until she was breathing evenly, asleep and at peace. She slept through the rest of the night uneventfully, as did he... eventually.

The following morning, Saturday, Kingsley was up early, ready for Quidditch.

"You'll come to the match today?" he asked as he pulled on his new coach's 'uniform,' a long-sleeved yellow and black striped shirt with a bumblebee logo on the front. The kids' Quidditch league had gained popularity and interest rapidly, leading to sponsorships for each youth team from a professional team. Teddy's newly named team, the Bumblebees, had been picked up by the Wimborne Wasps. Teddy had been hoping to be on Ginny's team's team, but the Holyhead Harpies (original founders of the league) had chosen an all-girls team and named them the Harpettes.

Andromeda kissed Kingsley goodbye just after breakfast and set out to do her shopping, but she had barely stepped foot in Diagon Alley when Severus Snape appeared, Hope and Duchess by his sides, as if he'd had The Trace on her.

"How fortunate we've run into each other," he said, his voice deep and dry. "Would you mind keeping Hope for a few hours? I am behind in my work, and–"

"I'll take her." Andromeda scooped the girl into a hug, wiped the chocolate from her cheek, and set her back down. "Teddy is playing in a Quidditch match this afternoon. She can join me in the stands."

"Thank you." Severus sighed, clearly relieved. "Being a single parent is far more difficult than I could have imagined. I am thankful every day that Narcissa will be home soon. I do not know how people manage to go it alo… er…" He'd cut himself off. "Apologies."

"Don't apologize. Going it alone is not easy," said Andromeda. "But we do the best we can because we love them."

"Yes, we do," agreed Severus, glancing down at his daughter. Her hair was plaited in two of the messiest braids Andromeda had ever seen, her pink and yellow dress was rumpled, and she was wearing non-matching trainers, one green, one blue.

"I miss Mummy," said Hope, sniffling.

"Did Daddy dress you?" asked Andromeda. Hope nodded.

"I didn't realize her shoes were different colors until we were already here." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I haven't been sleeping. She hasn't been sleeping. Duchess hasn't been sleeping."

At mention of her name, the dog's tail waved wildly.

"I miss Mummy," Hope said again. "I can't sleep because I miss Mummy. I want Mummy." Her nose twitched as her eyes filled with tears. "I NEED MUMMY."

"Mummy will be home soon." Severus looked pained. "I'm sorry, Andromeda, but the apothecary, I-"

"Go! We'll be fine. I'll bring her home after dinner."

 _"After_ dinner?" His expression brightened. "I could brew after the shop is closed."

"Brew. Work. Sleep! You can leave her overnight if you'd like."

Hope burst into tears. Severus winced.

"Go on, then." Andromeda gently pushed him in the direction of his store. "Don't worry about us! All is well!"

He said a quick goodbye to his daughter and hurried off, an expression of guilt on his pale face.

"I know you miss Mummy, my little love." Andromeda knelt down, getting the knees of her jeans damp with mud, and pulled the girl into a hug. "Mummy misses you."

"Mummy doesn't love me! She only loves orphans in Adder-by-john!"

"Azerbaijan," corrected Andromeda. Then, with a quick silent prayer of sorts for Severus to forgive her, she took a deep breath and told Hope the truth. "Mummy isn't working with orphans, Hope. She's sick. She's in a special facility where they're helping her get better. The same facility I went to when I was sick. She'll be home as soon as she's better, just as I came home once I felt better. She hates being away from you, she loves you more than anything else in the world, but she needs to take care of herself right now."

"Mummy's sick?" Hope's dark eyes widened with fear. Andromeda brushed away her tears.

"She's getting better Would you like to visit her today?"

Hope nodded.

With another silent sort of prayer for forgiveness, Andromeda lifted the girl to her hip and headed toward the nearest store with a public Floo connection. Within minutes, they were in the entryway at the facility, walking toward Healer Adelaide Smelthwick's office.

"Andromeda!" Healer Smelthwick's expression changed from surprise to understanding as she realized who the woman had with her. "You'd like to see your sister?"

"Visiting hours are today, yes?"

"Yes, but…" Adelaide smiled. "But let me speak with her first, to be sure she's ready."

"Mummy might die?" asked Hope. Adelaide pinched her pink cheek.

"No, dear girl! Your mother has been ill, but she's doing well. And she is not going to die. Wait here, please."

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Andromeda was starting to worry.

Finally, Adelaide returned. "You may see her now. In the courtyard, on the bench facing the fountain. Follow me."

Filled with trepidation, Andromeda held Hope's hand and led her down the hall on the heels of Healer Smelthwick. When they were to the edge of the courtyard, which was as warm and full of flowers in winter as it had been the previous spring, Adelaide stopped them.

"Your aunt is going to say hello to your mummy first, Hope. We'll wait here. We can smell the flowers. When your aunt signals us, she'll be ready to see you."

"I want to see Mummy now!"

"I'll be just a moment," Andromeda assured her, though she didn't know why she had to see Narcissa alone first. She rushed toward the bench, where the blonde was sitting primly, hands folded in her lap, her hair swept into a French braid, looking like herself save for a lack of makeup. She was wearing a simple dark green dress, not the horrible facility-issues pajamas Andromeda had been forced to don after her second suicide attempt, which had to be a good sign. She blinked up at Andromeda.

"You've brought my daughter to see me."

Andromeda did not speak to confirm. It wasn't necessary.

"I didn't want her to know," said Narcissa, staring down at her hands. "Severus told her I was helping war orphans-"

"In Azerbaijan, I know. She came to the conclusion that you love orphans more than you do her."

"I had a dream. About drowning her."

"Severus said it left you feeling terrified."

"No." Narcissa fiddled with her wedding ring. "No, it left me feeling relieved. And that's what terrified me. I don't understand what it means. Healer Smelthwick can't tell me what it means. Do you suppose it means my subconscious thinks I'd be better off without her?"

"No." Andromeda sat on the bench beside her sister and took her hand. "I don't know what the dream means, but I'm certain it's not that."

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be with her. I'm afraid of my own child."

"Cissy…"

"What if I hurt her?" Narcissa looked to her sister, tears in her eyes. "What if the dream is a premonition?"

"Have you ever had a premonition before?"

"No."

"You weren't having one then, either. Sometimes a nightmare is just a nightmare." She took Narcissa's hand up to her lips and kissed the back of it. "You'd been drinking a lot, hadn't you?"

"I had. I thought I could handle it. I told myself, 'I'm not like Andromeda. She's an alcoholic. She has a problem. I was depressed after the death of my husband. That's normal.' It started with a sip here or a glass there, and it didn't seem to be doing me any harm. But when I was drinking, I said vicious things to Severus – not when drunk, mind. Just when I'd been drinking. I'd have a drink, he'd return home, and we'd have a row. I started to resent him, to resent our lives. I missed Lucius. I'll always miss Lucius. I miss traveling. Dancing. Formal dinner parties with the upper-crust of wizarding society. Swimming. Lucius and I used to love to swim. And have sex. I had a lot more sex with Lucius… and more interesting sex. Sometimes I fantasize about slipping alcohol into Severus' drink so he'll lose control and choke me until I see stars."

"If it's sex you miss, I could let borrow a couple of my favorite toys, to be used solo or in groups. I'll disinfect them first, of course. But you'll never have to want for sex again. You'll be sated before Severus even enters the room."

Narcissa let out an undignified snort. "No, thank you. Wait, did you say, 'in groups?'"

Andromeda chuckled. "Not something you and Lucius were keen to try?"

"Can you imagine the reaction if I suggested _group sex_ to Severus Snape?" Narcissa asked, then she covered her mouth, horrified, as she realized the witch and wizard walking by had heard her. They gave the sisters an odd look and scurried away. Andromeda held back a laugh.

"Jokes aside, _have you_ been healing?" Andromeda asked when she was sure the pair were out of earshot.

"I think so. I've mostly been speaking with Healer Smelthwick during individual sessions about my guilt. I can't help feeling it's my fault Draco suffered what he did, and my fault Lucius is dead, and my fault Severus is miserable."

"Severus is miserable?"

"I'm a miserable wife. As of late, I am. I pick at everything he does. I don't know why, but I can't stop. And I hate myself for it."

"He'll forgive you. He loves you."

"He deserves better. I'm not good enough for him. He's a bloody war hero. What am I?"

"Merlin's fucking beard, Narcissa, if you don't sound exactly like me talking about Kingsley!"

Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "We're not the same. You don't deserve to feel the way you do. But I'm a former Death Eater."

"Snape is a former Death Eater, too, don't forget. And you both performed your own acts of heroism during the war. You lied straight to the face of Bella's lover, a madman who'd think nothing of killing your entire family as punishment, while she was right there. It's incredible she didn't realize you were lying."

"I had to say he was dead. I had to get back to the castle, to find Draco. Potter said Draco was still alive. I had to see for myself. It wasn't altruistic. I wasn't trying to save Potter or turn the tide of the war. I just wanted to protect my child."

"That's all I wanted. I didn't exactly join the Order, you know. And Ted was the one who allowed Nymphadora to offer our home as a safe house the night Potter escaped his aunt and uncle's. I wanted nothing to do with it."

"Severus deserves a woman who saw the error of her ways before it was her own child's life on the line. I knew Bella had murdered people, I knew she'd killed entire families, children and all, and when it was my turn… I carried out orders. Then, I did nothing to prevent the second war. I let her live with us, I welcomed her into our home despite Lucius' reservations. During the first, I willingly took the Dark Mark. And I've never been punished for it. I think that's what bothers me, Meda. I ought to have been punished. After the first, after the second, at some point... but I haven't been. You've been punished. You lost your daughter. You've had your grandson taken. Your reputation is in ruins. Countless good people have been punished, but me? I'll never pay for my crimes. And I think… I think…"

"You think you deserve to suffer? Maybe that's why you felt relief in that dream, after drowning your child. You feel you deserve to suffer, and nothing would bring you more suffering than the loss of a child."

Narcissa twisted her ring, chewed her lower lip, and thought this over.

"I think you've hit on it, Meda. I truly do. I _do_ feel I deserve to suffer, but it's all been… aside from losing Lucius, which was harder than I… it's all been too easy. I fell in love with Severus. We married, had a child, we have a home. My son is flourishing. He's getting married soon. I may be a grandmother in a few years. I have a daughter who is sheer perfection. My life is good. Draco tells me about the orphaned children he works with. They've suffered. Many are still suffering. You're still suffering. But me? A person who deserved to pay for what she'd done? I've been happy."

"You don't deserve to suffer the loss of your child because of what you've done in the past."

"Sometimes I have nightmares about... about the... the one I killed," Narcissa whispered. "I took from someone else their child. And while it was over two decades ago, I cannot stop thinking about it as of late. Thinking about how easily I moved on after the first war, as if nothing had happened. And how selfish I've been to struggle with the conclusion of the second. I have dreams about those victims, dreams about Bella, dreams about Lucius. And, in every dream, the deaths are my fault, but the only one to bring me relief instead of sorrow was that awful one about my darling girl and the lake. I haven't told that to Healer Smelthwick. I haven't told her… what I did, either. How I 'earned' that Dark Mark. I told her I was ashamed. That I tried to burn it off after Lucius... but I didn't tell her why I received it."

"Perhaps you should."

"I don't think I can."

"You have two more weeks." Andromeda squeezed Narcissa's hand. "Try."

"I want to see Hope. I want to be home with her. It's killing me, being here." Narcissa held back tears. "I want to hold her and never let go, but I'm afraid."

"She wants to see you. You don't have to be afraid now. I'm here. Healer Smelthwick is here. Hope is safe. You're safe."

"I love Severus, I truly do, I'm in love with him, and I'll always love Lucius, but nothing compares to the love I feel for Draco and Hope."

"I know." Andromeda smiled sadly. "Trust me, I understand. Are you ready for her to come?"

Slowly, Narcissa nodded. She took deep breaths to keep from crying, and steeled herself to see her daughter for the first time in a month. Andromeda gave the signal. Adelaide leaned down to tell Hope, who was picking flowers, and pointed in their direction. With a grin, the three-year-old rushed toward her mummy.

"Hope!"

"Mummy!"

Narcissa gathered the child in her arms, kissing and cuddling her, smelling her hair, and making note of her mismatched shoes, her fear momentarily dissipating.

"I picked you flowers!" Hope thrust the bouquet toward her mother's face. "Smell?"

"Beautiful!" said Narcissa. She took them and placed them gently on the bench. "I shall place them in my room in a vase to look at every day until I'm home with you."

"You come home soon?"

"Soon. A fortnight. I hope." Narcissa kissed each of Hope's pink cheeks and squeezed her tight. "How is Daddy managing without me?"

"He is bad at hair but good at bath. He buyed me three Perfectly Pastel Ponies! We swim them in the tub. Daddy uses magic to make them neigh! My favorite is Appaloosa April. She's pink. He likes Mustang May best. That one's purple. When you come home, you can be Arabian August. She's yellow like your hair and quite pretty."

"Thank you, I'd love to be Arabian August." Narcissa settled on the bench, cradling Hope like a baby. "Has Draco been visiting?"

"Yes, on Sundays for dinner with Hermione."

"Isn't she well-spoken?" asked Narcissa over the child's head. "When Draco was three, his sentences all started with 'me want' or 'me has.'"

"Very well-spoken," agreed Andromeda. "I'm going to visit with Healer Smelthwick. I'll be back for Hope at the end of the hour."

'Thank you." Narcissa kissed her baby again. "My little love, tell me more about Perfectly Pastel Ponies. Are they from a wizarding shop or a Muggle one?"

Andromeda wandered across the courtyard, reaching Adelaide by the door. They made casual conversation until the hour was up, at which time Andromeda retrieved Hope (who did not want to leave) and bade farewell to Narcissa (who thanked her profusely for bringing the child to visit).

They went straight from there to lunch, and straight from lunch to the Quidditch match.

Teddy's team had just taken to the pitch when a heavily pregnant woman sat down beside Andromeda in the stands.

"Hestia," said Andromeda coolly. She looked the younger woman over. Just as Severus had said, she looked ready to burst, despite having several more weeks before her due date. But she also looked good. Her face glowed, her hair was shiny and thick, and her maternity wear was flattering, unlike anything Andromeda had worn in her third trimester. She felt a pang of something like regret over her inability to give Kingsley a child, even though neither of them wanted one.

"Andromeda," Hestia said. "Good afternoon."

"What are you doing here?"

"My boyfriend's team is sponsoring the Bumblebees." She pointed toward the pitch, where Dickens Berry and two other Wimborne Wasps were standing on the sidelines with Kingsley and his co-coach, Thomas Macey.

Kingsley didn't seem to have spotted the professional players yet.

"You have a boyfriend." It was not a question.

"We've been seeing each other since just before Christmas, yes." Hestia smiled down at Hope. "What's your name?"

"Aquila Hope Snape."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hestia Jones."

"Hello, Hestia Jones."

"You must be the daughter of Severus and Narcissa. You look like your mother, except the eyes. I like your shoes."

Hope beamed. "Thank you!"

"Hope, go sit with Mrs. Granger and Ophelia for a few minutes, please." Andromeda gestured down toward them.

"Why?"

"Ophelia hasn't seen you in weeks. She misses you."

"Oh!" Hope hopped up and carefully began making her way down the stands toward Hermione's mother and sister.

"Is Teddy still in Harry Potter's care?"

"What does it matter to you?"

Hestia shrugged, not taking her eyes off the match, and said casually, "If you're unfit to care for a child, I won't want you around mine."

"I'm hoping there will be no reason for me to be around that child, as there's some question as to whether it was fathered by my Kingsley." Andromeda stretched, turning her hand just enough for the engagement ring to catch the light.

"He asked you to marry him." This, too, was not a question.

"It was his grandmother's ring," answered Andromeda, who was also keeping her gaze on both Teddy, playing Seeker today, and Hope, settling beside Ophelia, rather than looking at the woman beside her. "He asked me on New Year's Eve. We don't intend to wait long before marrying."

"He hasn't been seeing you long."

"Three years. And you've been with Dickey Barty for – what? A month?"

"Six weeks. And it's Dickens Berry."

"Has a fetish for pregnant women, does he?"

"Fuck you."

"No, thank you. You're too young for me."

Hestia screwed up her face, disgusted. Andromeda smirked.

"Dickens and I met in the bookshop. We both enjoy mystery novels. We spent the entire afternoon talking and discovered we've a lot in common. He has a son he's raising alone. The mother has about as much interest in parenting as Kingsley does, which is to say, not much. He understands how difficult this is for me."

"Fascinating," said Andromeda as if it were anything but. "Have you been to bed with him?"

"What business is that of yours?!"

"Merely curious." Though both women kept their voices low and their tones light, there was a bite to their statements, and a simmering anger threatening to bubble up to the surface.

"Yes, I've been to bed with him. He's better at it than Kingsley."

"I doubt that."

"You wouldn't know, though, would you?"

"Would you like me to shag your boyfriend to be sure?"

"I thought you were more interested in other women these days, Mrs. Tonks. I saw that photograph Ginny and Harry Potter produced during your Wizengamot hearing. Met a Holyhead Harpy in the pub and had to try to taste her tonsils?"

"Kingsley happens to appreciate my appreciation for the female form, child."

"I am hardly a child. The only child here at the moment is that of your fiancé and me." She patted her belly. "Until six weeks ago, I honestly hoped he'd come around. I thought seeing the baby would change his mind. Now? I don't care. I don't know if I'm even interested in letting him have a relationship with my baby. I don't trust his judgement, frankly." She side-eyed Andromeda. "You and the Minister for Magic together couldn't manage to keep custody of your grandson. That speaks poorly of both of you."

"When that child is two, if it's his, you'll be begging us to take it for an hour, an afternoon, a weekend, any length of time so you can sleep and shower and feel human again."

"I'm not going to be the sort of mother who needs to pass her child off to others. I can handle my little one myself."

"You say that now only because you've never had a little one to handle. It's harder than you'd think."

"Says the alcoholic drug addict. I fought against You-Know-Who during the war, you know. I held my own against killers like Rodolphus Lestrange and Walden Macnair. You couldn't hold your own against a small glass of champagne. I think I've a better chance of managing a child than you."

"You were fortunate during the war. You exchanged a few Stunners and dodged a few Unforgivables on the battlefield. I couldn't bury my husband because they didn't find enough of his body. I lost my only daughter to my older sister. I was molested and tortured by Death Eaters who broke into my home. I don't think we should sit here comparing what we could and could not handle six years ago. The war was a job for you. It was personal for me."

Hestia sucked in air, and thanks to Legilimency, Andromeda knew she was wrestling with guilt and anger, hurt and insecurity. And she could hear Healer Adelaide Smelthwick in her head, telling her to do better, to be better. To be a bigger person.

"I'm sorry," said Andromeda. "I am. I'm sorry you loved Kingsley in a way he didn't love you. I'm sorry you've been hurt. I'm sorry you'll be raising your child without a full-time father. But there's no reason for you to hate me. I didn't steal him away from you. I am not the reason he didn't want to become a father again. I didn't tell you to get pregnant on purpose with the hope it would bring you back together. I am not your enemy. And if that child is his-"

"It's his."

"We're going to have to set aside… this. All of this. For the good of the child."

"Don't tell me what's for the good of my child."

Andromeda sighed. "I'm not going away. Kingsley and I will marry. Teddy and Dorcas will live in our home. That baby will be part of our family. And I want it to be happy."

There was a long pause. They watched the players zoom around on their brooms, occasionally falling off or bumping into each other. The Canon's-sponsored team scored against the Bumblebees. Teddy got scolded for responding with an inappropriate word. Andromeda smiled. The match continued.

"I want the child to be happy too," said Hestia, so softly Andromeda almost missed it. "I don't want to hate you. I don't want to hate Kingsley. And I want to stop hating myself. It's easier to hate you than it is to hate myself, or even to hate Kingsley. But I suppose it's unfair."

"I've said cruel things to you." ("And _about_ you," she didn't add.) "But I don't hate you, Hestia."

"If I'm being honest..." Hestia fidgeted. "I'm getting close to my due date and I'm scared."

"It's normal to be scared."

"You don't understand. I'm estranged from my family. My closest friends are childless. I don't know what to expect. I don't know whether whatever this is with Dickens is going anywhere." She took in a sharp, ragged breath. "I don't know if I can manage a baby alone."

"You probably can't," said Andromeda simply. "Not anything against you. It's exceedingly difficult. I was estranged from my family, too, and Ted worked constantly when Nymphadora was a baby, so I often felt alone. And with Teddy - I had just lost both Ted and Nymphadora. I hadn't reconciled with my sister yet. I've never felt more alone than I did those first few nights I cradled him when he was inconsolable, trying to get him to take a bottle when he wanted to breastfeed. I know lonliness."

"I'm sorry," said Hestia softly. "Sometimes I forget-"

"But you don't have to be alone," Andromeda cut her off. "Childless friends can be an incredible help. That attractive boyfriend can probably distract you once in a while. And Kingsley – despite his lingering hope it's not his – is a capable father and a good man, one who won't let his child suffer regardless of the circumstances. Teddy will be excited to have a baby around, especially if you can manage to have a boy. Dorcas could help you on occasion when she's not at school; whatever you might think of her past, she's a bright and sweet girl, wonderful with children." Andromeda half-smiled. "And I promise not to get drunk _or_ high when your baby is around."

"That's all I ask," said Hestia, half-smiling too. She played with a string on her long skirt. "My ankles are enormous. Is that normal?"

"Yes. Do your breasts hurt? Or your lower back?"

"My back. All the time. And the heartburn!"

"Avoid foods that exacerbate it."

"Which foods are those?"

"Citrus foods. Spicy foods. All foods, really. Also, no foods. I think water gave me heartburn when I was expecting."

"I hope you're exaggerating."

"Only slightly. And don't worry if you start to leak."

"Leak?" Hestia sounded panicked. "From where?"

"Anywhere."

She blanched.

"Spotting is potentially dangerous, though. See a Healer if you have any bleeding. Constipation is normal. Mild contractions while not in labor is normal. Itchy, enlarged veins in your legs is normal. Difficulty breathing when going up stairs is normal. Craving foods you shouldn't eat is normal. Stretch marks are normal. Fainting can happen but isn't necessarily normal. And my eyesight was never worse than when I was pregnant; it also never fully recovered. I didn't need glasses before..." She pulled hers from her handbag and held them up. "But I've needed them since."

Hestia shook her head. "It's worth it in the end, though, isn't it? The pains of pregnancy?"

"It's worth it," said Andromeda, closing her eyes for a moment to picture the moments after she became a mother. "When you see your baby for the first time… you know it was all worth it."

Just then, excited shouts filled their side of the stands. Andromeda opened her eyes to see Teddy zooming back and forth on his broom, the glittery gold Snitch clasped between his fingers.

"We won!" shouted Freddy Weasley. He, Orlando, and Grayson, the day's Chasers, landed on the fake grass and began jumping up and down. Still on her broom, Maddie Bones-Macey, Keeper, hugged Teddy.

"Nana, did you see?" Teddy called, facing her.

"I did, Teddy!" she lied. "Well done!"

He beamed. Kingsley, not glancing in her direction, lifted Teddy to his shoulders as the Wimborne Bumblebees celebrated their win. He seemed as happy as any of the kids.

"He'll be a good father," said Hestia quietly, watching Kingsley.

"Yes," agreed Andromeda. "He already is."

* * *

 **A/N:**

Thank you for reading, following, adding to faves, and/or reviewing! Welcome back, **Lilikaco!** I missed reading your reactions! And thank you so much for your reviews to the last chapter, **clarasnotlikely, banglabou, sassanech, FrancineHibiscus,** and **Popular Cats**! That unexpected hiatus was a little longer than I'd have liked (life had to go getting in the way) but I'm happy to be working on this again!

 **-AL**


	44. Part Four: Week 5

**CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK FIVE**

Severus came to pick up Hope early Sunday morning, but the child was still asleep.

"I'll bring her home later," said Andromeda, curling up on the couch and reaching for her cup of coffee on the small table. She had been up for an hour, but was still in her pajamas. "Kingsley's having a lie-in too. He and his friend, Tom, were at the pub until midnight celebrating their Quidditch win."

She chuckled, remembering how thrilled Kingsley had been to spend time with his friend, like a teenager allowed out past curfew, though she suspected he was also excited to be drinking during their "man dates," since he no longer imbibed with her.

"I haven't had friends since Lucius, save for Minerva," said Severus as he settled in the chair Healer Smelthwick typically used during sessions. He sounded more matter-of-fact than sad about it, but Andromeda sensed he was a bit envious of the two men.

"Ask Kingsley and Tom if you can join them next time. I'm sure they'll say yes!"

"I've never been one for tipping back beers or in-depth discussions about Quidditch."

"What did you talk about with Lucius?"

"The usual things. Magical history. Politics. Women. Potions. His son. Books."

"What sort of books? Kingsley enjoys books. He reads mysteries, thrillers, science-fiction. More of our literature than Muggle works, but he's got a few of the classics. He enjoyed Oliver Twist, but he gets a bit tetchy these days at the name 'Dickens.'"

"Understandable." Severus shrugged. "Friendship has never come easy for me."

"For me, either. I have Narcissa and I have Jean. And I used to have Artemisia Bonham, many years ago, but then I fucked her husband and it took her a long time to get over it. Coffee?"

"Yes, please." Severus, to his credit, did not visibly react to her admission of infidelity. "To change the subject, thank you again for taking Hope. I slept better last night than I have since Narcissa went away. I think I was too exhausted to spend my usual number of hours worrying and pacing."

"Hope is welcome stay over any time. I love her. And I owe you." She waved her wand, summoning in the coffee pot and a cup. She poured it for him, handed him the mug, and sent the pot back to the kitchen. "You kept Teddy for me for three months, remember?"

"I remember."

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Black is fine." He took a slow sip. "We didn't mind having Teddy. I think Narcissa enjoyed it, really, having two small children. I don't believe it's coincidence that she became obsessed with the notion of having another after we returned him to you, even if she didn't realize it."

"Oh?" This hadn't occurred to Andromeda. "I assumed it was a panicked reaction to starting the process of menopause."

"That, too." He took another slow sip, calmed somehow by the hot liquid, though he'd typically choose tea or juice over coffee any morning.

"I'm going to wash the floors before they're up. Would you like me to do yours later?"

"No, thank you, I can manage," said Severus. "With Butters handling the cooking, the least I can do is everything else."

Andromeda smiled. "You're a good man."

"I haven't been," said Severus. "But I'm trying to be, now."

"You sound like my sister." Andromeda cupped her mug between her hands, resting it on her knee. "Still battling decades-old guilt?"

"Forever." He sighed.

Andromeda pictured her sister on the courtyard bench, absentmindedly scratching at the scarring under her sleeve, talking about her past.

"How did you earn your Dark Mark, Severus?"

He looked up sharply, but after a second his expression softened. "There was only one way to earn the Dark Mark. One had to murder in his name."

"You committed murder, then?"

Severus nodded. "There wasn't a Death Eater who hadn't done it, save for Draco. He was Marked to send a message, not only to him, but to his parents. The Dark Lord wanted them to understand - namely Narcissa, since Lucius was in Azkaban - that their son was his now. And he wanted Draco to remember that he was going to kill, that he was forever one of them. The only other who might have been Marked before their first murder was your sister."

"Narcissa?"

"Bellatrix. He favored her because she was fucking him." Severus' mouth twisted into a sneer. "But she killed for him. Many times. Without a moment's doubt or remorse. Unlike most of us, she enjoyed it. She'd volunteer."

"Narcissa committed murder, too, then? To earn her Dark Mark? She's told me a bit here and there, but..."

"With the exception of Draco, every Marked Death Eater committed murder." Severus said it with finality, and Andromeda, figuring her own sanity depended upon it (not to mention her relationship with her sister) chose to ask no further questions.

"She told me you brought Hope to see her yesterday," said Severus. "I wasn't happy at first, but she was, so I'm setting side my personal feelings."

"Yes." Andromeda went slightly pink. "I shouldn't have done it without your blessing, I realize, but it seemed the right thing to do in the moment. I'm impulsive, as Healer Smelthwick likes to remind me, and-"

"It's fine."

"How did you know we… did you speak with Narcissa?"

"I've visited her every Saturday since she was admitted. For one hour, the last hour of visiting hours. Does that surprise you?"

"Honestly?" Andromeda drank some coffee to delay her answer. "Yes, I suppose it does. I wasn't sure… your marriage… if…"

"Our marriage started to suffer as of late, I won't deny it, but I love her as I've never loved anyone. Not even Lily. And she says she loves me. She swears it."

"She does."

He exhaled as some of the tension left his upper body; perhaps he was relieved to hear it confirmed by a third party.

"Healer Smelthwick says it's not unusual for couples to struggle five or so years into their relationship, which we're fast approaching. The 'honeymoon' period is over, and we're settled in for the long haul. She also said children change relationships, and, as children age, that changes the relationship too."

"That's true," said Andromeda, feeling slightly guilty over how her relationship had changed as Nymphadora aged. She'd grown bored with her husband; she knew, to some extent, Narcissa was feeling the same. But Narcissa was loyal, faithful. Not the type of have an affair, as Andromeda had. Not the sort to risk everything for a little excitement with a man of no importance.

"We're both struggling with our own demons," continued Severus. "And we're doing it while trying to pretend all's well for the sake of our daughter, but we're not as strong as we'd like to be. Neither of us. I'm still not used to relying on another person, to trusting another person. Not after spending an entire lifetime on guard. Adding to the complications, Narcissa is having hormonal issues, she's been drinking, and she's stressed over the planning of Draco and Hermione's wedding. As of late, I've thrown myself into my work – probably too much – and withdrawn out of fear she was considering leaving me, an act of self-preservation it took me some time to realize."

"Have you been in therapy, too?" asked Andromeda, half-serious. "You seem to have remarkable clarity."

"Every week, while I'm visiting Narcissa, we sit hand-in-hand and talk candidly about our challenges." He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable having revealed something so personal, so vulnerable. "But we love each other. We want our marriage to work. We want to be together. There's no question, there."

"Good." Andromeda, smiling, waved her wand. "Accio biscuits."

A tin flew into the room. She caught it with the ease of a professional Seeker going for a slow Snitch, and popped open the tin, taking two.

"Ginger?" asked Severus.

"Chocolate."

"May I?"

She held it toward him. "Please."

They were each three biscuits in when Hope wandered down to the sitting room, rubbing her bleary eyes, wearing a pair of Teddy's old firetruck pajamas.

"Daddy?" She puffed out her bottom lip in a pout. "Want Daddy."

"I'm here, Hope!" He hurried over to scoop her up and snuggle. She nuzzled her face against his neck.

"Go home?" she asked, whiny and tired.

"Yes," he said. "We're going home."

He thanked Andromeda again before carrying the girl home, walking next door rather than bothering with the Floo Network (since Kingsley disconnected at night). She headed upstairs to see if her fiancé was awake yet, but found the bed empty. She went to the loo; the door was locked.

"Alohomora."

The bathroom was steamed up and the water was running full-blast. He must be in the shower. She peaked in to ask whether he wanted breakfast, but found him… occupied.

His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, and his hand was moving fast up and down on his shaft. He let out a low groan.

She smirked.

"Need a hand, love?"

He startled, knocking into the shelf on the wall, sending the shampoo, conditioner, and soap to the shower floor. His eyes opened and met hers.

"Oh, fuck me! Andromeda! I was just…"

"Washing your hair?" She laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Go on, have your privacy. Hope's just gone home. Enjoy your shower. I'll see myself out."

She was all the way to the door when he called her name, followed by, "Come here."

"Something on your mind?" she asked innocently.

"Come here, I said."

She obeyed, poking her head back in the shower. "Yes?"

He grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and pulled her into the tub.

"Kingsley!" She slapped his chest. "You're going to get me wet."

"That's the idea." He pulled her under the water stream, soaking her pajamas, and pressed his lips to hers.

By the time they emerged, it was too late for breakfast. They dressed, went grocery shopping, and got lunch out instead.

The rest of the week was relatively uneventful. Kingsley worked. Andromeda cleaned. And wrote. She'd been doing a lot of writing as of late. And a lot of reading her old writing. The letters she wrote while in the facility. The article about her family printed in the Quibbler. Journal entries she'd kept secret as a teenager.

On Thursday, Kingsley set down his book and stared at her across the couch until she sensed his eyes on her.

"What?" she asked.

"Another letter to Dorcas?" he asked. "Can't be a crossword puzzle. You're holding at least six pages there."

She set the papers on the coffee table. "Don't laugh."

"Promise."

She took a deep breath, Accioed in a box she'd kept hidden in Teddy's room, and held it toward him. He set down his mystery novel on the arm of the couch before taking it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I'm writing," she answered.

"You're writing?" He opened the box. The first page was a list of notes under the header, Memoir. "You're writing a memoir?"

"I don't know that anyone would want to read, but it's about my life, everything that led to… to addiction… and everything that's come after. Up until now." She fiddled with the fringe on the throw pillow, avoiding his eye, just as she had so often during couples' therapy when opening up was far too hard. "It's not important."

"It's important!" He scooted closer. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's probably nothing. I've… I miss Teddy, that's all, and to keep me occupied, I've-"

"Don't be dismissive!" He turned to the first page, entitled "A Letter to Myself, Before I was Broken."

 _Andromeda,_

 _By all accounts, you were an ideal baby. Born at forty weeks gestation, a healthy weight, good length, ten fingers, ten toes, no disfiguring marks, disabilities, or diseases, powerful lungs, but not a frequent crier, and a natural at nursing. According to the account your grandmother once told you, your mother's contractions began just after breakfast on a sunny day in May; she gave birth before afternoon tea. You had only one flaw, but it was a significant one, one over which you had no control, one you'd never overcome._

 _You were, most unfortunately, born a girl._

 _Another girl, to parents who already had a girl. To parents who had no desire in raising a second girl. To parents who'd barely celebrated the birth of the first, but had come to love her for her forceful personality, her ability to charm anyone, her adorable appearance._

 _They were disappointed to have a second girl, you failed to charm them as the elder one had, and by the time you could talk, you knew it._

 _"_ _It took them six weeks to name you," Grandmother Rosier said. "They'd already chosen a name for a boy. You were 'the baby' until Bellatrix insisted they pick something else. She chose, 'Bella Two,' seeing you as a miniature version of herself, but they took pity on you and gave you a name of your own: Andromeda."_

 _Bella One, eventually, accepted this, but shortened it to Meda._

 _That said, you were reasonably well treated, at worst ignored, and by the time they had their third daughter, you were learning how to get along with your confusing, demanding family. Mummy demanded decorum, daintiness, docility. She instilled in you her core values: presenting a perfect public face, looking pretty, shunning those your Pureblood old-line family considered considerably lesser on account of how they came by their magic. Father's beliefs were pushed upon you, too. Bigotry, especially against Muggles and Muggleborns, and a deep appreciation for nonsense aristocracy, the belief that even some Pureblood families are simply better than others. And yours was, according to both Druella Rosier and Cygnus Black, better than most._

 _In public, you were presented like show horses beside your sisters, with strangers both envying and hating you, assessing you, charting your every move. People cooed over the Black sisters, told your parents how sweet you seemed, smiled as Mummy and Daddy doted on you. Strangers would probably have checked your teeth and looked under your shoes, had your parents allowed them._

 _At home was quite another story._

 _There was abuse at home. Neglect. Hypocrisy. Father had affairs. Mother drank too much. Bellatrix was headstrong. Narcissa was spoiled. You were terrified of upsetting the status quo._

 _And you were confused._

 _Daddy called you useless and a nuisance, but he also told the most wonderful bedtime stories, acting out the parts, delighting his daughters in classic tales like that of Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump, telling you how special you were. Mummy slapped your cheeks and sent you to your room, but she also took great care washing and combing and plaiting your hair, letting you sit in her lap while she sewed, calling you her darling girl._

 _You loved it when they loved you and you craved more, always, never sated by the breadcrumbs of affection they occasionally dropped at your feet. You were starving for acceptance, for affection._

 _And you found that in the boy who took you away._

 _But it was never unconditional. You learned early that love could never be unconditional. And you did not question that fundamental understanding until you, yourself, became a mother, and realized how very much you missed from your own parents._

 _You realized the love from a parent to a child could indeed be unconditional, absolute, and fierce. And you wondered why they hadn't felt that way for you. And that wondering ate away at you. It ate and ate and ate, until you were existing half-empty, a shell. How could they neglect you as a child? How could they hurt you? How could they let you leave?_

 _You tried to quell those questions, eventually turning to alcohol to quiet the vengeful, destructive demons screaming in the back of your mind. The voices sounded suspiciously like your estranged parents, like your abandoned sisters, like the husband you both adored and resented, as he both adored and resented you. More than anything, you doted on your daughter, determined to ensure she never felt the pain you had, adamant she never want for anything, especially love. She was everything._

 _But as the alcohol-induced stupor wore off, the voices of the demons became louder, and when your daughter was no longer there to remind you that unconditional love indeed existed, you lost yourself to them._

 _They're quiet now. But not forever. You know they'll be back. They visit in your nightmares, still. They're present when you think of your grandson, the one you raised from infancy but now see during supervised visits, a boy for whom you've caused great pain with your desire to die (though in your worst moments you felt leaving him was the selfless choice). They're present when you think of your fiancé, a man you still believe to be too good for you, one whose ex-lover is pregnant with his child, as children are a gift you could never give him. They're present when you think of your sisters, both the one with whom you've reconciled despite a lifetime of irreconcilable differences of opinion, and the one who took your only child away, the one who considered murdering a niece an act of amusing necessity. They're present when you experience flashbacks to that time you were tortured by Death Eaters. They're present when you think of your husband, the one who saved you from your family, the one who never let you forget what you owed him, the one to whom you can never fully apologize for the pain you caused. The one who caused you pain you've only recently been able to process._

 _More than anything else, the voices of those demons are present when you hear the words cruel, angry, ignorant people have slung at you through the years:_

 _Whore, slag, homewrecker._

 _Blood-traitor, bitch, cunt._

 _Drunk. Nutter. Disappointment._

 _Addict._

 _You don't know whether you were born ill, or became ill over time. You don't know whether it's in your blood or born of your experiences. You don't know for how long you can fight. But you know, now, that you deserve better than what you've had in the past, and that you are better than what you've believed yourself to be._

 _You have ten fingers and ten toes, few discerning marks or disabilities, and a disease – addiction – that can be treated, but never quite cured._

 _You may not have grown from ideal baby to ideal adult, but you can have a nearly-ideal life, if you continue to work at it. A happy life. A healthy life. Perhaps even a long one, provided you continue to battle back the demons that scream at you to end it. You know you can ask for help. You know drugs and alcohol do not help._

 _You know can trust those you love._

 _You know unconditional love is not reserved solely for a mother to feel for her child. You know how to love._

 _You know you're deserving of love._

 _You are not perfect, but you are not broken._

 _You'll live._

 _-Andromeda_

"It's stupid," said Andromeda, as Kingsley placed that first long letter back in the box. "I don't know where I'm going with it. Some of it exists in letters to myself. Other parts are in letters to other people. Some in prose, most in first person, some second or third. Notes, mostly. Ideas. Nonsense."

"It's brilliant." He set the box on the coffee table. "Andromeda, you can write."

"I can spell, you mean. And my grammar is fine. But-"

"You can _write."_ He pulled her into his arms, draping her legs over his lap, wrapping his arms around her upper body. "Look at the number of letters you received after that Quibbler article. The number of people who responded to your quote about how society treats those who are suffering. People want to read your words. People want to understand about addiction, about survivor's guilt, about depression. They-"

"Half those letters were hate mail."

"And half weren't. The wizarding world hardly recognizes that mental illnesses, ones not directly caused by magic, exist. But things are changing. Thanks to the facility and Healer Smelthwick, to that new legislation I passed, and thanks to you… If this were published, woman-"

"You've read one letter, one poorly written letter to myself, and are already thinking my writing should be published?" She laughed derisively. "I love how supportive you are, Kingsley, but I am _not_ a writ-"

 _"You can write."_ He kissed her gently. "And I'm confident people will want to read whatever you've written."

"You don't mind what I wrote about you?"

"It bothers me that it seems to bother you that you can't give me children." He held her tighter. 'You know I don't want-"

"I know you say you don't want them." She cupped his cheek. "But Kingsley, I'm a better Legilimens than you are an Occlumens. When we're together, sometimes, you think about it. You think-"

"You shouldn't delve into my head like that." He moved himself into a laying position on the couch, bringing her with them. Because of the relatively narrow cushions, her body was mostly on top of his. He held her so she'd not roll off onto the floor. "Do I fantasize, on occasion, of-"

"In the shower a few mornings ago, you were fantasizing about getting me pregnant."

"That's… it's not about having children. It's… uh…" He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "It's about dominance, staking claim."

"It's about wanting a baby with me."

He rubbed her back and exhaled slowly. "Sometimes."

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She snuggled closer, closed her eyes, and concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat. "I think about it too, sometimes."

"I love you." He squeezed her bum and kissed the top of her head. She smiled.

"I love you, too. You know that."

"I know." He squeezed again. "Is Teddy coming today?"

Because of his Saturday Quidditch time and the availability of a Ministry official, Teddy's weekly supervised visits had been moved to Thursdays from four in the afternoon to seven. It was uncomfortable, eating dinner as a family with a Ministry official in the sitting room, but it was better than nothing.

"Yes," said Andromeda. "And again tonight I will remind the Ministry representative that it is absolutely asinine to require someone to watch us with him for three hours in the afternoon when both Harry and Ginny have left him in our care multiple times – including overnight – since we lost custody. If they truly feel I'm unfit, wouldn't they be bad parents for trusting him to us?"

"We'll bring that up at our appeal." He continued running his fingertips up and down her spine, under her hair. He was starting to drift off to sleep when she next spoke.

"Do you think it's alright? What I said in my letter about wanting to die? It's true that I thought I was doing what was best for him at the time, but if anyone were to read it... especially with us still trying to regain custody..."

"I think it's honest." He scratched at the back of her neck and she practically purred. "You weren't in your right mind, then."

"I'm not sure my mind has a 'right' setting."

He chuckled. She smiled. They lay there for several minutes in silence, just holding each other, until he spoke again.

"When?"

"When?" she repeated, perplexed. "When what?"

"When will you marry me? I've asked how many times?"

"Oh." She breathed deeply, taking in the clean cotton scent of his wizard's robe. "In one month, how about? Four weeks from today. Alright?"

"That's a work day." Though he was off this particular Thursday, it was only because he'd been working so much on Sundays as of late, thus had taken 'sick' time to recover.

"Four weeks from Saturday then."

"I have Quidditch Saturdays. I mean, _Teddy_ does. We don't want him to miss-"

"You don't want anyone to miss Quidditch, Merlin forbid! How could I suggest such a thing?" She laughed. "Fine, then. Four weeks from Sunday."

"Perfect. Four weeks from Sunday. Who's invited?"

She mulled this over before responding. "Well, Teddy, of course. My sister and her family, Hermione included. Dorcas. Neville, if she's still seeing him. Jean Granger, maybe. How big would you like it to be?"

"If you're inviting Jean, could I ask Tom?"

"Tom from Quidditch?"

"Yes."

"Certainly." Andromeda smiled. "You two _have_ hit it off, haven't you?"

"I'd say so. We should have him for dinner next week. With his wife."

"Alright, let's. Anyone else?"

"Mahmoud from the Ministry? And her husband? I've known her since Hogwarts. We were Ravenclaws together, and she was my partner in the Auror department for years. Unless that's too many people."

"It's fine, I've always liked the Mahmouds. What about Minerva McGonagall?"

"Minerva, yes! And…" Kingsley stopped rubbing her back, his hand paused just above her bum. "My parents?"

"Your parents?" Andromeda pulled herself half up, staring down at him, her face falling around them like curtains. "Will they like me?"

"I hope so. And my sister. And her family. I have nieces. And my grandmother."

"I thought she was dead. You gave me her ring, didn't you?"

"My other grandmother."

"Oh." Though Andromeda's belly was now full of butterflies, she tried to smile. "I think it wouldn't be much of a wedding without your family there. Invite them."

"They may say no," said Kingsley. "Don't be insulted if they say no. Our relationship is… complicated."

"I'd like to meet them, if nothing else." She leaned down to kiss him. "I hope they won't hate me."

"How could anyone hate you?" He pulled her back down, so she was laying directly on top of him rather than partly to the side as before.

"My own parents hated me. My sister hated me. At times, my husband hated me." She chuckled. "I'm a relatively easy person to hate, so I'm told."

"Cook for them, they'll fall in love with you. Make shepherd's pie. Or a stew."

"I want to impress them. I'll make duck. Or lamb. What for afters? Eclairs? I make incredible eclairs."

"I know. What did you make for tonight?"

"Chocolate Swiss roll. Teddy's request. I asked him Saturday. And dinner will be fish and chips, though he only asked for the chips. Mushy peas. Carrot sticks for Hope. She's particular, these days. Eats nothing green, not even green sweets."

There was a knock at the door, then, startling both of them.

"Four already?" asked Kingsley.

Andromeda glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was two minutes after. Another knock.

"Coming, Teddy!" she called, heading for the door. Sure enough, there was her darling boy on the top step, a woman from the Ministry standing awkwardly behind him, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Nana!" Teddy threw his arms around her waist.

"Teddy!" She picked him up and carried him inside. Kingsley greeted Nadiya, who was supervising for the first time, and invited her in.

Shortly before six, Severus and Hope arrived with Duchess in tow, and the family sat down to supper. (Kingsley lent Nadiya a mystery novel to keep her occupied in the sitting room, for which she seemed grateful.)

At five of seven, Severus took Hope home, leaving Andromeda and Kingsley to say goodbye to Teddy.

"Nana?" Teddy asked, staring up at her. He had his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her lower abdomen. "When can I live home again?"

"Soon, I hope," she answered, same as every other time he'd asked recently. She gently brushed his shoulder-length blue hair back from his face. "As soon as the Ministry lets me have you back."

"Kingsley?" Teddy turned to him. "When you'll make the Ministry let her have me back?"

"I don't have control over that," said Kingsley. He bent down to talk to the boy at eye-level. "As Minister for Magic, I have a lot of power within the Ministry. Unfortunately, though, I can't decide where children should live. That's for the partial Wizengamot. But we're working on bringing you home, I promise."

"Kingsley?" Teddy dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned in close. "I heared Harry and Ginny talking. They said you're having a baby. Like Ginny. Do you have a baby…" Teddy looked skeptically at Kingsley's stomach. "In there?"

Kingsley smiled, shaking his head. "No, Teddy. Men don't… we…" He glanced up at Andromeda. "One of my friends is having a baby. And I might be that baby's father. But we won't know until it's born."

"Because you're not married?"

"Something like that."

"Oh." Teddy was clearly confused. He leaned ever closer and whispered in Kingsley's ear, "If you have a baby, is it my brother?"

Kingsley laughed, drew the child in for a hug, and shook his head again. "I don't think we have time to answer these questions right now, lad, but if Harry lets us take you for lunch after Saturday's Quidditch match, we'll talk about it then. Alright?"

Teddy nodded, looking both disappointed and appeased. "Alright." He brought his voice back up to normal volume. "Nana? You're coming to Quidditch?"

"I wouldn't miss it," she assured him.

"I'm so very sorry," said Nadiya, stepping forward. "But it's after seven, and Mr. Potter was very clear that punctuality-"

"Go on," said Kingsley. "And tell Mr. Potter if he has any issues regarding the time of Teddy's return, he can see me in my office tomorrow."

"Thank you, sir." Nadiya hurried Teddy to the fireplace. Though they'd come to the house by Knight Bus, they'd be returning to Grimmauld Place by Floo. They stepped together into the fireplace. She gave the address. And they were gone.

"So." Andromeda plopped on the couch. "What was Teddy asking that you can't answer until Saturday?"

Kingsley dropped down beside her. "He knows about the baby. And he hasn't given up hope for a brother."

"Oh, dear." Andromeda leaned against her fiancé, both staring into the roaring fireplace. Her hand found his. "What are we going to tell him?"

"I have no idea," said Kingsley. "But we have less than forty-eight hours to figure it out."

* * *

 **A/N:**

I can't remember if I made Kingsley an only child in this fic or if I gave him a sister, and couldn't find any references either way. So… he has a sister now. She's older. Married. Kids. And we'll just pretend he had her all along, if I stated otherwise before. I really should have kept better notes! Lol

Thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter! I was nervous about the dream sequence. Sorry we won't see until next chapter Teddy's baby-related conversation with Andromeda and Kingsley, but I'm enjoying writing it! Thank you to the chapter 43 reviewers: **Banglaboyu, sassanech, FrancineHibiscus, lilikaco, NazChick, Astoria Redfern,** and **fEmAleNoMad**. As always, I super enjoyed reading your reactions. Thank you!

 **-AL**


	45. Part Four: Week 6

**CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK SIX**

"Lancashire hot pot?" Kingsley asked as he wrapped his arms around Andromeda from behind and peered over her shoulder into the pot on the stove.

"But with a twist," said Andromeda. "There's cardamom, cayenne, and cumin in it. I found the recipe in a book from the library: Modern Takes on Traditional Dishes."

"How will it taste?"

"How does it smell?"

He buried his nose under her hair, nuzzled against her neck, and inhaled deeply. "Incredible."

She swatted at his thigh. "I meant the food."

"Good enough to eat." He pressed his lips to the dip before her shoulder and brought his left hand up to her breast and his right slipped to the button on her jeans.

She rolled her eyes and reached for the salt. It needed another pinch.

"Don't start what you can't finish, Kingsley."

"I can finish."

"Your friend and his wife will be here soon and I don't want them to have to wait on the front step in the cold until we've put our clothes back on."

"Who said we were going to take our clothes off?" He squeezed her breast as he undid the button one-handed. "You don't need to be naked to suck my-"

"Sod off." She wriggled away from his grasp, moving to the spice rack. "Where is the cayenne? It needs more."

"Accio cayenne!" The container flew past Andromeda. Kingsley caught it with the ease of a professional Seeker and passed it to Andromeda.

"Show off."

He grinned.

He was in a particularly good mood. His friends were coming for dinner, he'd had a relatively calm week at work, she'd started sleeping through the night again after several nights of nightmares, and his junior team dominated on the Quidditch pitch earlier in the day. Teddy played Beater, took another Beater's bat to the face, and managed to hit the Bludger heading for their Seeker in the opposite direction before landing to have his busted lip fixed by the League nurse. (Andromeda closely examined his face and tried to kiss his injury, but he pushed her away, saying, "Nana! Don't embarrass me in front of the kids!")

Kingsley was proud.

The week before, on Saturday, Teddy's team had gone out for ice cream - it had initially been planned to celebrate their win, but as they'd lost, it had been to cheer the kids up. Andromeda had gone along to help chaperone, as had Hermione, who was caring for her younger siblings for the weekend.

"It's not too cold for ice cream?" asked Andromeda, as they bundled the children up and prepared them to travel in small groups to Diagon Alley, where their parents would be picking them up.

"Never too cold for ice cream," said Kingsley. He wrapped a scarf around Sylvie LaPage, a waif-like blonde who was surprisingly strong. She'd played Keeper.

Andromeda tied Teddy's shoes, helped Freddie Weasley put on his gloves, found Fiona Chang's missing socks, and wiped several runny noses. Finally, they were ready to travel. Once at the ice cream parlor, Hermione sat with Ophelia in her lap. Andromeda sat beside her, letting the seven noisy teammates sit together without adults in between them.

Kingsley and Tom settled at the opposite end of the table with George Weasley, talking "strategy" to avoid another loss.

"Othello loves this," Hermione said softly, leaning toward Andromeda. "He will be devastated if he's a Muggle."

"Wouldn't the broom not fly if he were a Muggle?" asked Andromeda. Hermione shook her head.

"The brooms are children's specials. They're magic, but they don't require magic to use, much like Wizard's chess - anyone can play."

"Oh." Andromeda winced. She gazed down the table. Othello was sitting between Freddie and Grayson, the grandson of her ex-boyfriend, with tiny Hope on Freddie's other side. Across from them sat Teddy, Maddie, Fiona and Sylvie. They were making a mess of their ice cream, talking, laughing, and not looking nearly as down about the loss as the men at the head of the table.

"He's doing well," Hermione said, her voice still low. She spoon fed Ophelia, who struggled to hold utensils, and smiled. "Draco and I had dinner with Harry and Ginny a few days ago. We brought Hope and the twins. The four little ones played for hours, until bedtime, while the adults took turns holding baby James."

"Glad to hear it," said Andromeda, but her voice was wooden, and she did not look in Hermione's direction.

"Do you still intend to fight for custody?"

Even though Hermione asked it innocently, Andromeda's hackles went up. She and Hermione made eye contact, and she attempted to push her way into the woman's head, but found herself surprisingly blocked.

"Draco's been teaching me Occlumency," said Hermione. "I'm sure you're stronger than I am, but you don't need to invade my mind. If you have questions, ask."

Andromeda went slightly pink at this. She hated being caught.

"Fine," she snapped. "He's doing well. And this means...?"

"It doesn't have to mean anything," said Hermione diplomatically. "But..."

"But...?"

"But most grandmothers don't raise their grandchildren." Hermione concentrated on feeding Ophelia, keeping her voice light. "This might end up being for the best. You could be his nana instead of his mum. Visit him. Spoil him. Take him on holiday... but not have custody."

Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. "Et tu, Brute?"

"No!" Hermione looked horrified. "No, I'm not... no! A traitor? Andromeda! I don't... I just... Teddy is adjusting. He's getting used to life at Grimmauld Place. His behavior is improving. Harry and Ginny and learning how to handle him. They have him back in therapy. They're talking about school in the fall."

"School, with Muggle children?"

"Well... yes."

"A Metamorph in a school with Muggle children? And how will the Ministry respond when he has a meltdown and makes their paint bottles explode? Or when his hair changes color in the middle of story time?"

"Harry thinks they can teach him not to-"

"Harry has never raised a Metamorph. He doesn't know."

"He could learn." Hermione picked up her napkin to wipe Ophelia's chin. "He's willing to learn."

"What Harry needs to learn is his place." Andromeda poked her spoon in her sundae, but her appetite was gone. "He's Teddy's godfather, not his father."

"And you're not his mother."

"I realize that, thank you." Andromeda took a deep breath and let it out slowly before saying anything else, as what she wanted to say wasn't exactly kind. "Not forty-eight hours ago, Teddy asked Kingsley when he can come home. He may seem like he's adjusting at Grimmauld Place, his behavior may be better, but he doesn't want to live with them. He said he wants to live with me and Kingsley."

"Because that's what he wants? Or because he knows that's what _you_ want?"

"Hermione..."

"And, more importantly, what's best for him?"

Andromeda opened her mouth to respond, but two parents were arriving then - Sylvie LePage's mother and Grayson's grandfather - so she stood to signal the conversation over, greeting them instead. (Sylvie's mum gave her a warm hello, while Grayson's grandfather barely spoke to her.)

That night, in bed, Andromeda had told Kingsley about the conversation, and asked what he thought.

"I think she's trying to do what's best for Teddy." He pulled Andromeda to him. "That's what we all want, isn't it? To do what's best for Teddy?"

"Do you think living with Harry and Ginny is what's best for Teddy? Am I being selfish?" She closed her eyes. "Would he be better off being raised by them than by us? He's been with them nearly two months, now."

"Hardly more than a month," argued Kingsley. "Six weeks."

"Seven."

"Seven, then." He scratched lightly at the back of her neck under her hair. "Are you sure?"

She sniffled. "Maybe six."

"Hermione means well." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "But I want him home with us, and I think you do, too."

"I do."

"Then we'll get him back."

The additional benefit to having gone out after practice that day was the fact that Teddy didn't have time to ask again about Kingsley's possible baby, so they didn't have to explain, and by his visit the following Thursday, he seemed to have forgotten.

Andromeda didn't feel in the mood to cook, so the three of them picked up Hope and headed to a new local restaurant for Moroccan food. The children split an order of falafels for starters and vegetarian couscous for their meal, while Kingsley and Andromeda indulged with meals off the night's specials.

"Mummy comes home on Sunday," said Hope, tucking into her dessert, _baghrir berbere_ , a spongy pancake with honey, butter, and almonds.

"Does she?" asked Andromeda. Severus hadn't confirmed when she asked him about Narcissa's release date earlier in the week, but it had been tentatively planned for Saturday.

"She misses me." Hope smiled. Andromeda reached over with a napkin to get the honey from her chin.

"Is she at the facility?" asked Teddy.

"Yes," said Hope. "She was sick but now better. On Sunday."

But Narcissa wasn't coming home Sunday.

"We lied to her," Severus confessed, while Hope was upstairs showing Teddy some of her new toys after being dropped off. "Narcissa and I wanted... some time. First. Alone. She's staying the weekend with Draco and Hermione. They'll pick her up Saturday morning, and I'm going to the facility to meet Narcissa at noon. We need to... talk."

"You've been visiting her every weekend to talk," said Andromeda. She smirked. "You want to have uninterrupted sex."

"No!"

Kingsley swatted at Andromeda's thigh. "Leave the man alone, And."

"Don't call me And."

"Andi."

"That's worse."

"Drama."

"No."

"Woman."

"I will hex you from here to-"

"Thank you for taking Hope to dinner." Severus began ushering them toward the door. "But won't Teddy's visitation end momentarily? Don't you have to return to the house in time to meet Nadiya so she can return him to Grimmauld Place?"

"Sweet Nadiya," said Andromeda. "I hated having to leave her unconscious on the couch, and Confounding her when she wakes will be a chore, but it would have been uncomfortable to have her supervising us at a restaurant."

"I'll Rennervate her," said Kingsley with a sigh. "I never would have agreed to this little plot, but Andromeda had her out before I was in the room." He shot his girlfriend a sharp look. "As Minister for Magic, I would never have-"

"You never would have, and you didn't!" She grinned. "Teddy! Time to go!"

That was nearly forty-eight hours ago. And now, Thomas Macey and his wife, Emily, were at the door. He was a tall, lanky ginger man with a mustache, twinkling green eyes, and freckles, while she was a short, curvy woman with blemish-free skin, perfect eyebrows, and - most surprising - a lip ring.

"Kingsley!"

"Tom!"

The two men embraced like it had been days since they last saw each other, rather than hours

"You must be Andromeda," said Emily, smiling. She put out her hand.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," said Andromeda, shaking it.

"You, too!" said Emily. "I've heard so much about you."

"Oh?" Andromeda chuckled nervously. "Not from the Prophet, I hope."

"No!" Emily's blue eyes widened. "No, I... I mean, yes, honestly, everyone read the... and the Quibb... but, no, I meant...I meant I heard... from Tom, and... I... er... uh... Oh, fuck me. Could we start over?"

Andromeda laughed. "Let's. Hello. I'm Andromeda."

"Emily." They shook hands again. "It's so lovely to meet you, Andromeda, especially as I've never heard of you nor read anything about you, ever."

Andromeda laughed again. Kingsley took their coats and scarves and sent them to the coatrack down the hall.

"Our sitting room is through here...' Andromeda led the way. "I put out cheese, crackers, olives, just a few things."

"She made a spicy red pepper jam," said Kingsley, bringing up the rear. "Delicious."

"Dinner will be ready soon." She said it almost apologetically, even though they'd planned to visit before the meal so it isn't as if the food was delayed. She sat on the edge of the chair Healer Smelthwick always occupied and began chipping away at her nail polish. Though Emily's greeting had put her momentarily at ease, she now had an inexplicable lump in her throat and a fluttering in her stomach. Kingsley, being a man with few close friends, wanted badly for this dinner to go well, which she, as a Legilimens, could feel, and she felt it all rested on her. She was the cook. The hostess. And, of the two of them, the one people were least likely to like.

Kingsley sat in the other chair, which was one of Teddy's little ones Transfigured to adult size, while the other couple took the couch. Andromeda glanced at Kingsley, hoping he would drive the conversation, but he didn't see; The men immediately turned toward each other and started talking Quidditch.

"So." Andromeda smiled at Emily. They were dressed similarly in Muggle attire, jeans and jumpers, though Emily's jeans were ripped across both thighs and her jumper was much more form-fitting. Andromeda felt dull and matronly by comparison. Of course, she had probably twenty years on the younger woman... What could they possibly talk about? Surely, they had nothing in common.

"So." Emily took a cheese square and smiled back somewhat awkwardly. "How long have you been seeing Kingsley?"

"Three years, I think? Feels like half a lifetime." She glanced up at him. He'd sprung up from his chair and was demonstrating the best way to swing a Beater's bat using a rolled up newspaper as prop. "We're getting married next month."

"Congratulations! It took Tom ten years to ask me to marry him. Our daughter was two when he proposed and three when we made it official. My mother was relieved when it happened. She said, 'Finally, you can be his wife and not his whore.' She...'" Emily cut off abruptly as her face turned a delicate shade of tomato red. "Oh, fuck me twice, I cannot manage to open my mouth without putting my foot in it. I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize." The knot in Andromeda's stomach loosened a bit. "Knowing you're as uncomfortable as I am makes me like you more."

Emily laughed. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I can't stop saying 'fuck.' I'm a fucking mess. I'm... I can't tell you how nervous I am! Tom..." She leaned closer to Andromeda and lowered her voice, though it was probably not necessary, since the men were completely engrossed in their own discussion. "Tom likes Kingsley, but he's intimidated by him. Being the Minister for Magic, you know. And you both - you're so... you're famous! And we're... I mean... Tom works for the Ministry and I'm a... I recently got fired from my job in his office, Misuse of Magic, and now I'm working as a barmaid. Part-time! We're... I mean... a lowly Ministry worker and a barmaid, we aren't the sort who regularly have dinner with the bloody Minister for Magic and the mum of a war hero! And I'm rubbish at making casual conversation. I was an outcast at Hogwarts! Always overshadowed by my older half-brothers and sister. Edgar, Arthur, and Amelia, you've heard of them?"

Andromeda nodded, though she hadn't heard of Arthur.

"I've always been my parents least favorite child. I'm the one who wasn't wanted and I've never done anything with my life, according to Mum! I have anxiety and I'm socially impaired and, oh, fuck me, I had to have half a bottle of wine just to calm myself enough to leave the house tonight." Emily pressed her fingertips to her temples and sighed.

"I miss wine," said Andromeda wistfully.

"Fuck _fuck_ me, I'm sorry!" Emily cringed. "Mentioning wine? That's insensitive, I know! I... I read your article! The Quibb... the addictio... the... you know. I can't believe I said that about wine. Merlin's sweaty balls, could we go back to the door and start over a third time? You can Obliviate me first, I won't mind."

"I don't think that would be necessary, but if you want to follow me into the kitchen, I'd like to see if dinner is ready."

"Alright."

They rose.

"Time to eat?" asked Kingsley, who had returned to his chair.

"Soon," said Andromeda. "We'll call for you."

Once in the kitchen, Andromeda went to the stove while Emily flopped into a chair.

"Let's address the elephant in the room," said Andromeda. She leaned against the counter, facing Emily. "You've read about me. You know I'm an addict and an alcoholic. You know I've been accused of prostitution. Does that bother you?"

"No!" Emily shook her head vehemently. "I thought your Quibbler article was brilliant, honestly. After the first war, my half-sister, Amelia, she... struggled. I was eleven when Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. My father and his wife were dead, they'd both been killed by You-Know-Who the year before. My mum... My mum..." Emily winced and focused her gaze on the table in front of her. "My father had an affair with my mother, which produced me. So I was never... he resented me. My mother did too, because I wasn't enough to make him leave his wife for her. When I was six, she married a terrible man, so Amelia took me in. She was twenty years older and always good to me. But after that first war, during which her parents had been killed, and her girlfriend too - hardly anyone knew she had a girlfriend - she became quite depressed. So she drank. A lot. Often. And at eleven, twelve, thirteen, I took care of her. Not Arthur, he was married with a little girl. You know Susan? And Edgar was killed shortly before You-Know-Who's fall, along with his entire family, even their children. Amelia drank all the... I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. We've just met. We ought to be talking about... er... things women talk about when they've just met. The weather? Gardening? Children?"

"It's alright." Andromeda sat across from her. "I had no idea Amelia Bones had a... problem."

"She could hardly function some days. I missed what should have been my entire first year at Hogwarts. I was home with her from August of 1981, that's when Edgar's family was murdered, until the following September. I couldn't tell anyone. She was well respected and admired, in the Order of the Phoenix, though that wasn't known to most, on the Wizengamot, and an Auror, like Edgar and Dad. Months after the war ended, she was named Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, youngest woman ever to earn that position. She'd go to work and function all day and fall apart nearly every night. She told people she was homeschooling me. I loved her, but those were... it was a difficult time. And when I returned to school, I worried constantly. But she got better - never completely sober, but she managed, and no one else ever knew." Emily smiled shakily, her eyes brimming with tears. "She was more of a mother to me than my mum or my dad's wife. She was killed in ninety-six. By You-Know-Who. Like the rest of our family. Except me. And Arthur. Now I work for Arthur's daughter, Susan, at the Three Broomsticks."

Emily wiped her cheek with her sleeve.

"Andromeda? I wish someone had written an article like yours twenty-two years ago. It helped me, reading it, even though she's been gone for seven years now."

"It did?"

Emily nodded. "Amelia needed help. I helped as much as I could, but not in the way she needed. The therapy you wrote about, maybe it would have helped her. Had she seen her alcoholism as a blameless disease instead of a shameful character flaw, she might have gotten help for it, she might have... she... No one knows this, but..." She reached across the table and grasped Andromeda's wrist. "She was _pissed_ the night You-Know-Who murdered her. He came to her home with two Death Eaters, but he needn't have bothered with backup. She didn't have a chance of defending herself. She was a mess that night. I'd left her about an hour... an hour or two before they came. I shouldn't have gone. But if I hadn't, I'd be dead, too. I missed my first year at Hogwarts and didn't return for my seventh. I couldn't have done much."

"Kingsley said Amelia put up a considerable fight," said Andromeda.

"She did!" said Emily. "And it was favor to her, after decades of service, to stress she died fighting while keeping quiet her 'condition.' But had she been sober? Those Death Eaters would have both been dead before You-Know-Who had his wand pointed in her direction. She was incredible. Even in her worst moments, she was better than many at their best."

"I'm sorry." Andromeda squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry about your family. It's easy to forget, sometimes, the losses of others. I feel, sometimes, that I was the only one to lose everyone - or nearly everyone - but the war destroyed countless families."

"We move on, though, don't we? We face our demons, manage our grief, and try to do better by the next generation."

"Yes." Andromeda smiled, patted Emily's hand, and stood to check her hot pot again. It was ready.

"I'll get Kingsley and Tom so you don't have to yell for them," offered Emily, though Andromeda suspected she really just needed a moment to breathe.

Soon enough, the four were settled around the table and tucking in.

"This is delicious," said Tom, several bites in.

"Thank you," said Andromeda.

"She's an incredible cook," said Kingsley. "And a writer. And an extraordinary Scrabble player."

"I love Scrabble!" exclaimed Emily. "Tom hates to play against me because he always loses."

"Is that so?" Andromeda cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps, after dinner, before dessert, we could-"

"Absolutely not," said Kingsley at the same time Tom said, "No, thank you."

"Why not?" asked Emily and Andromeda in unison.

"You're too competitive," said Tom and Kingsley at once.

There was an awkward moment's pause, then the four broke into laughter.

"I also have Cluedo." Andromeda hid a grin. Emily's eyes lit up.

"Absolutely not," said Kingsley again, at the same as Tom said again, "No, thank you!"

"Oh, come on, you two!" Emily put on a pronounced pout. "One game?"

"We're having a nice evening," said Tom. "Let's not ruin it."

"Come by next Saturday," said Andromeda. "While these two and the children are at Quidditch. I'll invite my sister, Hermione, and her mother, Jean. We'll all play. And Dorcas. She's the sweet girl Kingsley and I took in a few months ago."

"You'll never get Hermione here for that," said Kingsley. "She hates playing board games with you. She says you aren't fun. And she's right."

"I'll tell her she's coming over for lavender macarons and tea. Then, when she's here, I'll hide the Floo Powder, lock the doors, and hit her with an anti-apparition jinx. She deserves it; I'm still sore at her for her comments about Teddy last week. And I'm certain I can get Jean and Cissy here under the same false pretenses."

"Brilliant!" Emily clapped her hands together. "I can't wait!"

"I'm afraid they may be hitting it off _too well,_ " said Tom. "This may not be good for us."

"No, quite the opposite," said Kingsley, stroking his chin as if mulling this over. "If they have each other to play against, they won't need us."

"Brilliant!" Tom clapped his hands together the way Emily had, even imitating her excited expression. She pointed her wand at him. He put his hands up in surrender, laughing.

They chatted and laughed comfortably through the rest of dinner and took their dessert back in the sitting room, where the conversation turned to the children. Andromeda and Kingsley explained a little more about Dorcas, Emily and Tom told a few funny stories about Maddie, and then they talked about Teddy.

"I know a lot of people probably agree with the Wizengamot, that Teddy's better off with Harry and Ginny, but he's not theirs."

"Teddy belongs with you," said Tom, but he wasn't looking at Andromeda; he was addressing Kingsley. "I see the way the two of you are at Quidditch! Like any other father and son."

"Amelia was impressed by Harry's abilities as a young wizard, but she said he was impulsive and stubborn, and believes himself to be in the right no matter what," said Emily.

"That's true," said Andromeda.

"it's also you," said Kingsley. "Don't hex me into tomorrow, Andromeda, but you're impulsive and stubborn, too, and you believe you're right. You have that in common. It's partly why you don't get on."

"Bite me," snapped Andromeda.

"Later," replied Kingsley. "When we don't have guests."

Emily snickered and Tom choked back a laugh. Andromeda shot daggers at Kingsley with her eyes, but after a moment, his cheeky expression made her laugh, too.

Hours later, after the Bones-Maceys had gone home, dinner and dessert were cleaned up, and they were settled in bed, Andromeda told Kingsley about her conversation with Emily. About Amelia's alcohol abuse. And about Emily wishing an article like Andromeda's in the Quibbler had been published decades earlier.

"Evidence you need to finish that book," said Kingsley. "There are people who need to read it. Addicts. Recovering addicts. Relatives of former and current addicts. People at risk of addiction."

"I spend half my day writing, while you're at work. More than half my day. Most of it. Hours upon hours. With Narcissa away, Teddy with the Potters, Dorcas at school, and Jean busy with her dental practice, I've become quite dull. I clean. I shop. I cook. And I write. That's all. I haven't completed a crossword puzzle in two weeks, not even the one in the Daily Prophet."

"Narcissa is back today, though, isn't she?"

"Yes. And I'll see her tomorrow. We're meeting Jean for brunch - no mimosas. Hermione and Draco are bringing Hope home after lunch, and Narcissa will be there. Should I tell her what I've been writing?"

"Yes." He slid his hand up the back of her sleep shirt, resting it between her shoulder blades. "I didn't want to tell you before dinner, I was afraid of adding to your stress, but I received a letter from my mum this morning."

"Oh?"

"They'd like to visit. And meet you. Before we're married. They'll arrive the weekend after next and stay through the wedding."

Her stomach fluttered. That knot was coming back.

"Stay... where?"

"I reckoned I'd offer them my Official Residence. Mum and Dad would arrive first, then, closer to the wedding, my grandmother, sister, and her family would join them. They can all stay there. With a couple of House Elves. What do you think?"

"Am I ready to meet your parents in a fortnight?" Andromeda ran her fingertips along the band of his pajama bottoms. "I suppose I'll have to be. Emily and Tom didn't seem to hate me. Perhaps your parents won't, either?"

"They won't hate you," he assured her, but he didn't sound convinced.

"You realize we're one week away from Valentine's Day?" She closed her eyes. "Seven days from today."

"Tonks' birthday," he said softly. "I know."

"It's still strange to hear you call her Tonks."

"Would you prefer I refer to her as 'Nymphadora'?"

"No." She slipped her fingertips under the band of his pajama bottoms over his hip, then slid her right leg over both of his. "I didn't think, when I invited Emily to play Cluedo, when I said I'd ask Hermione, Cissy, Dorcas, and Jean. I didn't think about the date. This is the first... every year, on the date, I've... But I forgot. I forgot it was coming up. I wasn't thinking about it."

"Androm-"

"Ever year since she died, I've spent her birthday with Teddy. We share one of her favorite sweets and look at pictures of her and I tell him about her favorite things and read him her favorite books, then I put him to bed and drink until I can't see straight."

"Not this year." He hugged her tightly. "This year, you're going to play Cluedo with your friends during Quidditch practice. You'll win the game in time to come watch Teddy's match. Then we'll return home and spend the evening together, not drinking anything stronger than tea, and if you'd like, you can show me her pictures and tell me about her favorite things and we'll eat her favorite sweets."

"It will be the first time I spend her birthday without Teddy."

"Woman..."

"And the first time I have to get through it without drinking."

"My woman." He repositioned them so they were face to face. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes.

"We'll get through it. If you want to reschedule with Emily, that's fine. If you want me to stay home, I'll stay home. If you want me to Stupify Harry, steal Teddy, and bring him here for the day, I will. But you won't be drinking."

"I know. But-"

"And you won't be alone."

"But I like to be alone." Her lower lip quivered. "I like to spend the day with Teddy, thinking about her, then I spend the night alone, drinking until I feel as dead as she-"

"I don't want you to be alone. I could ask Adelaide to visit. Would you benefit from-"

"Last year, on her birthday, I put Teddy to bed early so I could get high. It felt like the only way out of the darkness."

"This year, we will get through it sober. Clean." He kissed her gently. "Together."

"I forgot it was coming up. I didn't think about the date. When I invited her, I wasn't thinking about-"

"Next week, we will face the darkness together. The following week, we'll face my parents together. And, the week after that-"

"We'll get married."

"Yes." He cupped her cheek. "Should we ask Narcissa to plan our wedding? Since Draco and Hermione won't let her control the planning of theirs?"

"She would love that."

"Yes, we'll ask her?"

"No. She would love it, but she would annoy me, and I might end up killing her. Then I'd have to go back to Azkaban, and I don't enjoy the food there."

"We ought to think about planning something, though. It's three weeks away. And one day."

"Three weeks and one day is plenty of time to plan a wedding. I planned my last one in a matter of hours. This time, though, I'd rather not be wearing my Hogwarts uniform."

"You'd rather not be wearing it when? During the planning or during the wedding?"

"Either." She kissed him. "And I appreciate the way you distract me when I start to feel on the verge of spiraling."

"You're welcome." He slipped his hands down from her back to her bum. "You know what would be guaranteed to distract you?"

"A game of Scrabble?"

"I was going to say sex."

She laughed, reclined onto her back, and pulled him on top of her. "You're mad, Kingsley Shacklebolt. But I love you."

* * *

 **A/N:**

So close to wedding bells! This chapter was a little slow, action-wise, but I hope you enjoyed reading. Chapter 46 is... eventful, to say the least, so consider this the calm before the storm!

I've focused so much on Andromeda's relationships with everyone around her, I realized awhile back that poor Kingsley didn't have any friends, so I'm enjoying giving him Tom. Thank you so very much to the chapter 44 readers and reviewers! Including **ahorizonforthenewbirds, Jacqp, Clarasnotlikely, FrancineHibiscus, albe-chan, lilikaco, sassanech,** and **AstoriaRedfern**. :)

The Lancashire hot pot with extra spices was inspired by a dish made by a family on the British family cooking show on Netflix. No idea if it really tastes good, but the judges seemed to like it!

 **-AL**


	46. Part Four: Week 7

**A/N:**

This chapter jumps from Saturday back to each weekday leading up to it (ex: Sat, Sun, Sat, Mon, Sat, Tues).

Hope it's not too hard to follow.

Note, this chapter also includes mild references to self-harm at the beginning.

 **-AL**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FORTY-SIX**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK SEVEN**

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

Healer Adelaide Smelthwick was sat in her usual seat in the Tonks-Shacklebolt living room, holding her patient's wrist in one hand and running her fingertips lightly down the woman's inner arm with the other.

"It's not terribly deep," she said. "Though, obviously, I can tell it bled a good deal. You healed it yourself?"

"I tried," answered Andromeda, avoiding looking at the Healer's face even though her focus was on the long, slightly jagged cut.

"You did fine." Adelaide reached into her bag for a tub of salve that would help prevent scarring. "Does it hurt?"

Andromeda shrugged. The Healer opened the tub, swiped a glop of salve out with her first two fingers, and began massaging it into Andromeda's tender flesh, starting at the wrist.

"I'm proud of you, Andromeda."

"Proud of me?" Andromeda laughed derisively. "I took a kitchen knife to my arm. My blouse is bloodstained. When you arrived, I looked like the ghost of Banquo."

"Of the Scottish play." Healer Smelthwick continued her way up Andromeda's arm until she reached the start of the cut, intersecting the faded, nearly unnoticeable scars from the needles' track marks. "You did look a bit worse for wear, then, yes."

When Healer Smelthwick arrived, it was to find Andromeda sobbing on the floor of the sitting room, still wearing the bloodstained blouse, having just attempted to suture the wound using a familiar but infrequently used spell. Her wand was discarded to her side, and she was shaking.

"And yes, I'm proud of you." The Healer examined the wound again. It would heal. "You stumbled. You hurt yourself. And, before you could do any further significant damage – or turn to substances for reprieve – you contacted me. The Andromeda I met last year would not have done so. _Could not_ have done so."

"What's wrong with me?" Andromeda dug the short nails of her free hand into her thigh. "I've worked hard. I've done individual therapy, group therapy, couples therapy. I write, I have friends, I have Kingsley… My self-worth is better than it ever was, I rarely crave alcohol, save for the stress of fighting for Teddy, my life is good, now. Why would I do this?"

"Why _did_ you do this?"

 _"_ _I don't know!"_

Healer Smelthwick returned the salve to her bag, used "Aquamenti" and a flannel cloth kept in her bag to clean what was left off her hands, and leaned back in the chair, regarding her on-again, off-again patient carefully.

"You were clearly troubled."

"I've had a difficult day."

"But you managed to send me a message by Patronus. That's highly advanced magic."

Andromeda drew her legs up onto the couch, pulled her favorite pillow into her lap, and began toying with the fringe. She was in a pair of faded jeans with holes in both knees (caused by years of wear, not fashionably torn like Emily's had been) with an oversized Black Sabbath t-shirt that had been Ted's, one of very few articles of his clothing she still had tucked away in her bedroom. Her hair was a frazzled mess, her eyes were swollen from crying, and though the cut on her inner left arm no longer hurt, the tingling salve made it itch. She was a mess.

"I've seen Kingsley do it. I didn't know I could. But I knew I had to."

"You were in a bad place when I arrived. And, I assume, in the same bad place when you summoned me."

"Yes," whispered Andromeda.

"But you had to have brought to mind an incredibly powerful positive memory to manage that Patronus."

Andromeda nodded.

Healer Smelthwick crossed one leg over the other and rested her hands on them. Her long dreadlocks were pulled back in a low ponytail today, and she was dressed nearly as casually as her patient, in soft slacks and a pink blouse.

"Will you tell me what it was?"

"What else?" Andromeda smiled, but it did nothing to lessen the pain in her expression. "The moment I held Nymphadora for the first time. The moment I knew I was a mother."

 **SUNDAY**

 **08 FEBRUARY**

"Andromeda!" Narcissa hopped up from her seat in the restaurant and threw her arms around her sister as if they hadn't seen each other in years. "I've missed you! I love you!"

"Get off me, you fluff-minded trophy wife of a veritable vampire bat!" Andromeda shoved her away, but not too hard. "Have you showered? You smell like sex."

"Shush!" Narcissa put her finger to Andromeda's lips. "Yes, I showered. We showered together, me and Severus, and it was glorious."

"Severus and I."

"You cannot spoil my good mood!" It was Narcissa's first full day home, and she was clearly determined to enjoy it. They were meeting for brunch, as planned, though Jean Granger had not yet arrived. "I am free, and sober, and happy, and in love, and in three hours I'll have my daughter home and my son is bringing his fiancee for dinner tonight and all shall be well!"

"How very fortunate for you." Andromeda tried not to roll her eyes, but this chipper version of Narcissa was hardly better than the depressed alcoholic version she'd gotten to know when they reconciled after the war.

"I feel as though I've been reborn, Dromeda."

"Don't. Don't call me that."

Ted had called her 'Dromeda.' To everyone else, she'd been Andromeda or Meda. Or "woman," which she pushed back against but secretly liked. Never Dromeda. She preferred it that way.

"I'll never drink again. I understand that now. I can't." Narcissa fiddled with one of ear diamond earrings, a flashy choice for casual brunch, but one that matched the ornate floor-length dress and deep purple witch's robe she wore.

"I'm glad you went away for six weeks to learn what I've been telling you all along."

"Now that I'm well again, I'm going to throw myself into helping Draco and Hermione plan their wedding."

Andromeda hid a smirk, recalling her recent conversation with Kingsley. "Do they _want_ you to help them plan their wedding?"

"They said they don't, but I know they do. It's three months away and they've done nothing more than secure the venue and hire the caterers!"

"The venue is Malfoy Manor?" Andromeda asked, bemused.

"Yes."

"Their home, where they live?"

"Yes!"

"Glad they secured it, then." Andromeda was struggling to hold back her laughter. Narcissa sent her a sharp look. "Who's catering? House Elves?"

"Hermione refuses to rely on House Elf labor for the reception, so no. They've hired Francesca Abbott's Cuisine and Catering. Oh, there's Jean!" Narcissa waved her over.

Jean spotted them, waved, and headed to the back corner of the restaurant. She looked utterly exhausted. Her bushy brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, there were bags under her eyes, and her dress was much more rumpled than usual.

"Difficult night with the twins?" asked Narcissa.

She shook her head. Her eyes met Andromeda's. She looked away.

Andromeda grinned.

"Dear sister, it appears you were not the only one of us getting shagged into a stupor last night! Our dear Jean has news of her own!"

Narcissa gasped and turned toward Jean, who immediately covered her eyes.

"Stay out of my head, please, both of you!"

"What's his name?" asked Narcissa.

"No one you'd know!" said Jean.

"Then you shouldn't worry about telling us," said Andromeda. She grasped one of Jean's wrists, Narcissa did the same to the other, and they pulled her hands away from her face, grinning at each other.

"Out with it!" said Narcissa. "Or we'll use Legilimency on-"

"It's a terrible conflict of interest!" exclaimed Jean guiltily, her cheeks going pink. "He's Ophelia's occupational therapist. He asked me to dinner. I shouldn't have gone to dinner."

"Why not?" asked Andromeda. "You need to eat."

"You know why not!"

"You went home with him?!" Narcissa seemed positively delighted by this. "Jean, that's wonderful! You need that sort of love in your life. How long had it been since you last had a romantic connection with a man?"

"Fuck _love,"_ said Andromeda. "What we want to know is, how long had it been since a man last _had you_?"

(Narcissa swatted at her.)

"Too long." Jean winced. "It was a perfectly fine evening, I have no regrets. But when I woke this morning I felt like I'd been hit by a bus! It wasn't this way when I was young! My back hurts, my thighs are sore, I have a headache, I'm dead on my feet." She held up her right hand. "I have arthritis in my wrist. I needed three pain pills just to give him a… _you know_."

"Why wear out your hand?" asked Andromeda. "Is there something wrong with your mouth?"

Narcissa kicked her under the table.

"Ow!"

Jean chuckled.

"Did you stay the night together?" asked Narcissa.

"We did." Jean's blush deepened. "I wore this dress to dinner. I haven't been home to change."

"You dirty slag," said Andromeda, eyes twinkling. "I'm thrilled for you."

"Do you intend to see him again?" asked Narcissa, this time ignoring her sister. "We need to know everything. Is he tall? Charming? How much money does he have? Ever married? Children? Does he own his own home?"

"Who cares about any of that?" Andromeda rested her chin on her palm, her elbow on the table. "Let's discuss the more important details first. You know... what does he look like, how big was he, was he any good, did he make sure you finished first?"

"Why are you… _you!"_ Narcissa slapped Andromeda's arm. "If Mother heard you speaking like that-"

"She can't, she won't, she's dead." Andromeda rolled her eyes. "And you're no better! Asking how much money he has and whether he owns his own home. A man can be poor and homeless and be wonderful. Money and a house are inconsequen-"

"Money and a house are important! At least as important as his 'size,' you perverse guttersnipe."

"Rather be a perverse guttersnipe than a galleon-grabbing bubble-brained narcissist who-"

"Ladies!" Jean rapped the table. "If I wanted to listen to siblings not getting along, I'd be home with my children right now."

"Sorry," said Narcissa.

Andromeda did not apologize.

"You have to tell us everything, Jean," she said, mischievously grinning. "We're emotionally invested!"

"What first?" asked Jean.

Narcissa opened her mouth to respond, but Andromeda cut her off.

"Was he any good?"

Jean sighed. A long, drawn out, melodramatic sigh. And then, in a soft, wispy voice, she answered, _"Incredible."_

Narcissa and Andromeda exchanged a smile.

"And yes," Jean went on, this time looking to the younger Black sister. "I will see him again. I told him I would. But we agreed I should find a new occupational therapist for Ophelia. He's going to connect me with one of his colleagues. Don't tell Hermione. Not yet. I want to know… I want to be sure it's… if it isn't going anywhere…"

"She doesn't need to know what you do in your free time," said Andromeda.

"She probably doesn't _want_ to know," said Narcissa. "Every time I try to discuss sex with Draco, he covers his ears, like a child."

"That's because _you're_ having sex with Severus Snape," said Andromeda. "If Jean and I weren't the mature adults that we are, we'd cover our ears when you talk about it, too."

Jean laughed, and to her credit, so did Narcissa. The waitress came over then, to take their brunch orders, at the same time delivering small, thin flutes of complimentary mimosas – champagne and orange juice.

"Oh, no, thank you," said Andromeda, as Narcissa said, "We don't drink."

"I do," said Jean. She took all three, downed the first in one sip, and smiled. "This morning? After the night I had? I don't mind doing all the of drinking for all of us."

"Don't tell Hermione _that_ , either," said Narcissa.

"I agree," said Andromeda. "She's already high-strung. And stressed. She and Draco only have three months left to let Narcissa plan that wedding!"

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

Saturday had started off regularly enough. Kingsley was a little nervous about leaving Andromeda and Andromeda was a little nervous about being left alone, given the date, but they agreed he shouldn't miss Quidditch with the kids and they also agreed it would be better for her to stay home than risk running into Harry at the match after practice, as she was still furious with him for what happened two days before.

An hour after he'd departed, though, Kingsley returned home.

"I'm fine!" called Andromeda, when she heard his footsteps in the hall. She was at the kitchen table working on her memoir. She had reached the drafting stage, as she could no longer free write without some idea of where she was going and the overall structure. There was ink on her cheek and she'd been chewing the cap of her pen, but she was otherwise fine.

"I'm not worried about you," said Kingsley, entering. Andromeda drew her eyes up to look him over. He was ashen and trembling.

"Teddy!" She jumped up, knocking over her tea. "He's hurt! Where is it?"

"Not Teddy," said Kingsley. "He's fine!"

"Then, what-"

"It's Hestia," said Kingsley. He pressed his palms to his eyelids. A headache was coming on.

"Hestia?" asked Andromeda.

"Hestia," Kingsley repeated. "She's in labor."

 **MONDAY**

 **09 FEBRUARY**

"There are few things in life that I absolutely hate, but that damn cat is one of them." Andromeda plopped down on the couch beside Kingsley. Dinner dishes were done, he was reading, and she had planned to write, but a certain little furball had other ideas.

"Hairballs?" asked Kingsley.

"On my pillow! Only on my pillow! Never on your pillow! She does it on purpose."

"She couldn't possibly. She's a cat."

"She's a monster."

He laughed.

"If Harry wins Teddy in the appeal, I'm going to demand he take the bloody cat, too. Let him deal with her litter box and her cat-sick and the way she splashes her paw in water and then walks across me while I'm trying to slee-"

A hacking from the hall cut her off.

"Don't you dare…!" Andromeda hurried into the hall… and stepped in regurgitated Tuna Feast. "Fuck!"

"Come here, Meow-meow!" called Kingsley. The white and black fluff ball sauntered by Andromeda, shooting her a bitchy glare, before making her way into the sitting room to cuddle Kingsley on the couch.

"I will bake you in the oven and feed you to Duchess!" called Andromeda.

"She'd never do that!" said Kingsley, in an exaggerated, loud voice. "I'd never let her harm my sweet Meow-meow kitty! Who's my dear kitty? Who's a lovely girl?"

"You, too!" called Andromeda. "I will sauté you in a stew and serve you on Sunday, Kingsley Shacklebolt!"

Kingsley's laughter was the only reply.

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

The news gutted her.

"She _can't_ be in labor!" Andromeda picked up the tipped tea cup and threw it into the sink, which caused the handle to snap off. "Do you know what today is? Does _she?_ It's Valentine's Day. It's the fourteenth of February."

"I'm aware of the date," said Kingsley wearily.

"It's Nymphadora's birthday!" cried Andromeda. "That feckless cunt cannot have your bloody bastard lovechild on the birthday of my only daughter!"

"Androm-"

"My _dead_ daughter! No, no, absolutely not. Go straight to the hospital or birthing center or midwife's clinic or wherever the fuck she's laboring with that baby and tell her she has to wait!"

"That'll go over well," said Kingsley dryly. He pulled off his Quidditch robes, discarded them on a kitchen chair, and headed to the stairs. He had to change.

Andromeda gathered the 'uniform' and followed him.

"Kingsley, that woman cannot-"

"I can't control when she gives birth, Andromeda!" He tromped up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. "I'm no more ready than you are, but-"

"But, nothing! She's not due yet! It's too early!"

"Not too early," said Kingsley. "She's due the twenty-sixth."

"That's twelve days away!"

"I'll relay your objections." He brushed past her, heading into the bedroom. After a beat, she followed to find him standing in his undershorts in front of the bed, staring, as if hoping clothing would appear in front of him. Dazed.

"I'm not ready," he said softly. "A baby."

"Maybe it's not yours," said Andromeda. "If it's early by a fortnight, maybe it belongs to that fiance. Maybe-"

"We'll find out soon, I suppose." He waved his wand and an outfit - a jumper, white collared shirt, and jeans - flew from the dresser drawer to the bed. He pulled the jeans on first.

"This couldn't come at a worse time." Andromeda sank down on the bed and buried her head in her hands. She was still in her pajamas, having had a lie in that morning, eaten breakfast slowly, and gotten straight to work on her book.

He sighed. "It could have. Had she gone three days late instead, the little tyke would've been born on our wedding day."

 **TUESDAY**

 **10 FEBRUARY**

Andromeda woke on Tuesday morning to a gentle poke against her lower back and a hand snaking around her upper body.

"No," she said, without even opening her eyes.

"You smell delicious," said Kingsley, who was spooning her. His hand brushed against her breast.

"I _am_ delicious. I am also tired."

"You don't have to do anything."

"Yes, nothing makes for good sex like one of us not doing anything."

His lips found the back of her neck, his fingers tweaked her left nipple, and he pressed more insistently against her from behind.

"Come on. I'll be quick."

She tried to suppress her smile, kept her eyes closed, and thrust her bum against his groin. But…

"I don't know," she said, followed by an exaggerated yawn. "I'm _exhausted_."

"You don't even have to change positions…" he said, pressing again against her bum. We can do it like this."

She put on a pout. "Oh, dear, Kingsley, it's not polite for you to pester me after I've said no."

He sighed and flopped onto his back. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"But on the other hand…" She rolled over, facing him, rested her fingertips on the center of his chest, and drew them down toward his waist. "Now, it seems I'm wide awake."

His lips curled into a smile that grew quickly in to a grin.

"Come here, woman."

"Call me by my name."

He cupped her face and kissed her soundly. When they parted, he said hopefully, "We can start off with you sucking my…"

She slipped her wandering hand away. "And just like that, I'm sleepy again!"

He laughed, pulled her on top, and kissed her.

She kissed him back.

And he was late for work.

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

She wasn't sure their wedding day would be a worse birthday for the bastard baby than Nymphadora's birthday, but she didn't say so.

"I'm going to the hospital." He pulled his jumper over the collared shirt, leaned down, and kissed Andromeda's forehead. "You know I love you. I love _you."_

"I know," she said softly.

"I'll be home as soon as I can." He kissed her again, this time on the mouth. "You are the _only_ woman I love. I'm going to marry you. Fifteen days from today, I'm marrying you. This baby, if it's mine, doesn't change that. It doesn't change anything. You know that, right?"

"I know," she said again, even more softly.

"Should I ask someone to stay with you? Narcissa or Jean or Emily... or Adelaide?"

Andromeda shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What for?"

"My selfishness. I'm miserable because I don't want that... that reminder... born on Nymphadora's birthday, but you... if it's yours, you... you didn't want a... but you'll have... a..."

"Baby." He knelt down, putting his torso between her knees, and rested his hands on her outer thighs.

"Are you finishing my sentence, or calling me your-"

"Both."

"I don't want that baby to share a birthday with my baby."

"I know."

"I don't want you worrying about emotionally supporting me when I ought to be emotionally supporting you."

His lips curled up into a subdued smile. "We'll support each other."

"Kingsley?" She couldn't meet his eye. "I don't want you to take a look at that baby and fall in love with it the way I fell in love with my daughter, not because of the baby, but because... because when I held Nymphadora, and I felt like a mother, and I loved her so fiercely... I'd never loved Ted more, either. I don't want you to hold that baby and look at Hestia and fall-"

"I won't."

"But what it-"

He cupped her face and waited until she made eye contact. "Andromeda, I won't. I know myself. I know I won't. If that baby is mine, I hope I'll look at it and fall in love, because children deserve unconditional love from their parents."

"I agree."

"But not _her,_ Meda. Only you. I'm marrying _you._ I love _you._ That won't change. I promise."

 **WEDNESDAY**

 **11 FEBRUARY**

"I have six tiles left and they're all pure magic." Emily Bones-Macey grinned at Andromeda. "Go on, make your move."

Andromeda had seven tiles left, including a Z, an X, and the J, all picked up after her last turn. The game was close – too damn close – and though she was happy to have a new friend, she was determined not to lose.

"Jinx." She placed her J, N, and X on the board, using the I from QUICKSAND. The N connected with the word EATER, making NEATER, and giving a double letter score for the N.

"Not bad," said Emily, as she jotted down the mount. "You're up nine."

Off the N, Emily added, EUTER. "Neuter. One tile left. Your move."

She was still ahead, but it was all on this. If she went out with a Z, the penalty would put her behind.

"Shit." She stared at the board, examining ever possibility, but found no OO or EBRA or INC in need of a Z. But finally she spotted a possibility...

"There!" She added the Z to an LE.

"Lez?" asked Emily.

"Lez. Short for lesbian."

Emily laughed. "Absolutely not, take it off. Lez is not a word!"

"It is!" insisted Andromeda, though she had no idea.

"Dictionary?" Emily tapped the cover. "Lez. L-E-Z."

The dictionary pages turned of their own accord. This was a dictionary Emily had brought with her, specifically for games of Scrabble to be played by witches and wizards; it made contesting words quick and easy.

"LEZ!" the dictionary wheezed aloud. "Noun, informal, insensitive: a lesbian."

"Thank you!" Andromeda resisted the urge to kiss the book. "Lez. L-E-Z. Add my points. There are twelve."

"Damn." Emily stared intently down at the tiles. After an impossibly long moment, she set down her last one: A.

Below the Z.

"Za. It's in there!"

"I know," said Andromeda grumpily. She'd played ZA in an act of desperation more than once before.

"Eleven points for me! And I'm out! Add up your penalty."

"D, E, L. Two plus one plus one."

"And…" Emily jotted that down. "That means I win!"

As annoyed as she was by losing, Andromeda had enjoyed the game. And the conversation. Emily, when she wasn't putting her foot in her mouth every few seconds, was a funny, intelligent person. Perhaps next week, she'd ask the woman to join her, Cissy, and Jean at brunch.

"I demand a rematch. Next Wednesday at this time."

"Perfect," said Emily.

Andromeda was glad she'd written to her the weekend before, after realizing what Saturday was. She'd asked to reschedule their game date, and Emily had readily agreed. Saturdays it was hard to find a sitter, but Thomas's mother took Maddie from just after breakfast through just after dinner every Wednesdays.

"Their special time together," Emily had explained. "Just my girl and her gran!"

This wording had been slightly jarring for Andromeda; yet another reminder that most grandmothers didn't raise their grandchildren. They visited. Took them for a day. Then sent them home.

"Are you hungry?" asked Andromeda. "We could cook, or we could go out."

"Let's go out," said Emily. "I hate to cook! I am _not_ domestic. I hate to clean, too, but Amelia insisted I was adept at cleaning charms, laundry, all of that. She used to say, 'I'm your sister, not your maid.'"

"You must miss her."

"Every day." Emily smiled. "It used to make me sad to think of her. Every little reminder. And it crushes me that Maddie won't ever know her, except through the things we share. I learned I was expecting three days after Amelia was buried. Sometimes… sometimes I feel like a part of her… like a part of her is _in_ Maddie. Like Maddie was born with a little Amelia inside her soul. Does that sound mad?"

"Not at all."

"But now, when I think of her, it makes me happy. I think about how she would have felt with the outcome of the war, with Kingsley being Minister for Magic, with Minerva McGonagall as Headmistresses, with Harry Potter defeating You-Know-Who once and for all. She would have loved to see me married to Tom. She once said, 'He's perfect. He's everything I'd want in a man, if I wanted a man.'" Emily laughed. "She thought we were a good match. She was happy to see me happy. I tell Maddie stories about her, we look at pictures. She's very proud to be the niece of Amelia Bones."

"As she should be." Andromeda stood. Things were getting too heavy. They needed to lighten the mood. "How do you feel about Greek?"

"Greek?" she echoed. "The language or the food?"

"Both. Either."

"I can only say one sentence in Greek: _Kala Christougenna milo skata_ ," which, I think, means, 'Merry Christmas apple shit.' That's what an older boy told me on the playground when I was six."

"Can you say _spanakopita_ or _souvlaki_?"

"Yes, I think so."

"You'll be fine, then. We'll apparate to Diagon Alley and travel from there. It's cold, but a quick walk."

After an enjoyable lunch, they went window shopping through Muggle London, stopped for fancy coffee drinks, and, eventually, returned to Andromeda's home. Kingsley arrived shortly thereafter and Tom joined them for dinner before the two set off to pick up their daughter.

"I like them," Andromeda said as they were cleaning up the kitchen. "And I'm pleased you have a friend."

"I have friends!" said Kingsley, but, in truth, since becoming Minister for Magic at the end of the war, most of his prior friendships had fizzled out. Some – former coworkers – felt uncomfortable now that he was their boss, while others – old school chums – he just didn't have much time for or anything in common with.

"I have Mahmoud," added Kingsley.

"Yes, you have Mahmoud, whose first name I don't even know because you always call her Mahmoud, and now you have Tom. And Severus. Three friends."

"And you. My best mate. How lucky we both are to be marrying our best friend!"

 _"You're_ marrying _your_ best friend," she said. _"My_ best friend is Narcissa, and I _can't_ marry her. We're too closely related."

"Oh?" Kingsley's eyes widened in mock surprise. "I didn't think _anyone_ in the Black family saw a problem with marrying close relatives. Weren't your parents cousins?"

"Sod off."

"And weren't your aunt and uncle even closer cousins?"

"Bite me."

"There's even talk your grandparents were uncle and nie-"

She threw a handful of dish soap bubbles at him. In response, he reached into the sink for an even larger handful and squished them down the back of her shirt.

She splashed him.

He splashed her.

She kissed him.

He offered to remove her wet blouse.

Several hours later, they realized they'd never finished the dishes.

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

She dressed in a blouse and jeans, brushed her hair and teeth, washed her face, and threw herself back into writing. But not her memoir.

Instead, she wrote two letters to Hestia. In the first she called the younger woman every heinous name she could think of, every awful word thrown at her over the last year: whore, slag, slut, bitch, cunt, home-wrecker... and detailed all of the awful ways she wanted to see her die of 'natural' causes, including naturally falling off a cliff, naturally falling off a boat, naturally falling through that creepy veil in the Ministry, naturally being eaten by starving dragons...

But when she finished that one (and burned it), she made herself a new cup of tea, took several deep breaths, wiped her furious tears, and started again.

 _Hestia,_

 _I'm sorry I hate you._

 _I can't imagine how much it must hurt to have been in love with a man who's in love with another woman. It was wrong of you to try to trap him with pregnancy, but I don't envy you in having to go it alone, devastated by the realization that even a baby wouldn't bring him back to you._

 _I hope you and your new beau are happy. I hope, should the baby indeed be Kingsley's, that you are able to coparent effectively, and raise a well-adjusted child who knows, no matter what, that they are loved by both their parents._

 _I do not want your child to grow up as unloved as I did._

 _I recently became friends with a woman whose mother became pregnant by her married father, hoping (futilely) that it would force him to leave his wife and marry her. He didn't, and, as a result, that woman grew up resented by both her parents and by both her stepparents._

 _I do not want that for your child._

 _For any child._

 _I am sorry that I hate you and I am sorry that I cannot see myself no longer hating you any time in the near future, awful as it may be, but rest assured, I will harbor no hate or ill-will toward your child. Toward Kingsley's child. I love him more than I've loved any other man - yes, including my husband, though I'll never not love Ted - and more than I thought I was capable of loving anyone beyond my own child and grandchild, and I know I will love any child of his, too._

 _Assuming it is his child._

 _And if it is not, I hope you are alright raising the baby alone, regardless of what happens with your handsome Quidditch player. I hope you have people to whom you can turn when you need a break or a shoulder to cry on or a bit of advice or a friend._

 _When Teddy was a newborn, I didn't have that. I wish I had. I'm sorry I didn't. Perhaps I wouldn't have fallen apart the way I did, had I had more support then._

 _Don't be afraid to ask for help, as I was. Don't turn to the wrong kind of 'help.'_

 _I'm sorry I hate you._

 _And I'm sorry you blame me for the demise of your relationship with Kingsley. Perhaps it is, in part, my fault, though unintentionally (as, at that time, I had no idea he was interested in me). I know what you think of me. What most people think of me. And I hope, someday, you'll know I'm not that person._

 _I hope I'll find you're not that person, either._

 _-Andromeda_

 **THURSDAY**

 **12 FEBRUARY**

"NANA!" Teddy rushed into her arms. It was time for his weekly visit, supervised by Nadiya.

Andromeda swept him up and kissed him. She brushed his pale pink hair back from his face and examined him, as she did every week.

"You look older than you did on Saturday!"

"I am older!" he exclaimed. "I'm almost six!"

"Almost!" She smiled and kissed him again, but the reminder that he was getting close to another birthday reminded her that Nymphadora's was coming up on Saturday, which made her feel sick and depressed. Thirty-one years ago Saturday, she birthed a perfect baby girl. Six years ago May, she lost her.

"For my birthday, Harry said we can have all the kids at Grimmauld Place! All the kids on the whole Quidditch team, plus Hope and Ophelia, and we'll have chocolate cake, and crisps, and cheese sandwiches, and…"

"Harry's talked to you about your birthday?"

"A big, big, big party!" Teddy still had his legs wrapped around her waist, but he threw his arms up in the air. "All the kids will dress up and play games and-"

"You won't be there."

"I… what?" He looked at first confused, then upset, then, as realization dawned, he broke into a smile. "You mean I'm coming home?"

"Mrs. Tonks," said Nadiya gently. "Perhaps we shouldn't make promises to Teddy that we can't keep."

"Tell that to Harry Potter," snapped Andromeda. "He's the one promising the child the birthday party of the century!"

She cradled his face and examined him more closely. There was dried mud across his nose and cheeks, his hair was untidy and unwashed, there was a tear in the knee of his jeans, and he'd tracked footsteps into the house from the front step. Her eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong, Nana?"

"Everything," she said. She scooped up Teddy and carried him to the stairs, then turned to Nadiya. "He has dirt under his nails and clearly hasn't washed behind his ears. I'm going to give him a bath. Then, perhaps, a haircut. You stay here."

"What? Nana, I don't want a bath!" whined Teddy. "I want to play! I want to-"

"A bath," said Andromeda. "Or a shower." She started up the stairs, but Teddy began to wiggle.

"Nooo!"

"Mrs. Tonks, if Teddy doesn't want to take a bath, he shouldn't have to. Harry believes that-"

"Who the fuck are you to tell me how to parent?" snapped Andromeda. "That's not your job. Wait downstairs."

"I…" Nadiya glanced back toward the front door, as if reinforcements would be arriving any moment. "I… after last week, I… I… there was some memory loss, and… and Teddy said you went out for dinner... and... and now they told me I can't let you out of my-"

"Go sit in the sitting room until I say you may do otherwise, or I'll Stupify you and levitate you there myself. Understand?"

Nadiya bit her lip, nodded, and hurried into the sitting room.

Andromeda had just gotten a whiny, struggling Teddy into the tub when the door burst open.

She turned, expecting Kingsley, or maybe Nadiya, if the woman had gained a bit of courage, but it was Harry there. Furious Harry.

"We're leaving, Teddy." He reached for a towel. "Come out of there."

Teddy stood up.

"He's filthy," said Andromeda. "His hair is greasy, there's dirt under his nails, his feet-"

"He spent hours at the park today, playing."

"In February? It's cold!"

"It wasn't too cold to play, he wore a coat, and it wasn't raining."

"You shouldn't have had him outside for hours, and he should've cleaned up immediately upon returning home. He's covered in germs. And it's a bad time of year to be outdoors. He'll get sick."

"He won't. Fresh air is good for growing boys. And he didn't clean up after because we had to rush to get him here!"

"No excuse." Andromeda tossed her hair and turned back to the boy. "Teddy, my love, sit down."

Teddy sat down. She reached for a flannel and the soap. "We'll start with your face and neck and behind your ears."

"No, he's leaving." Harry held out the towel. "Come along, Teddy."

Teddy stood again, but did not step out of the bath.

"You can't!" Andromeda stood, furiously facing the Boy Who Lived. "It's _my_ time with him! You-"

"Your _supervised_ time! Where is your supervision? She's downstairs, crying, because you yelled at her and wouldn't let her do her job!"

"I did not yell!" But she was yelling now.

"He is _leaving_! Come on, Teddy!" Harry grabbed Teddy's arm.

"He's mine until seven!" Andromeda grasped the other arm.

Teddy looked from one to the other, his face crumbling.

"You can't do whatever you want all the time, Andromeda!" shouted Harry. "I know you Confounded her so you could go out last weekend! What is wrong with you? Teddy told me everything!"

"Sorry," mumbled Teddy.

"We don't need a bloody governess shadowing us at all times! It's ridiculous! Teddy has never been unsafe with me!"

"Never?" Harry laughed cruelly. "Never? He wasn't unsafe when you were on the floor downstairs with a needle in your-"

"Do you know what a record is, Harry? A record, like Muggles play? Because you sound like one that's broken, skipping, repeating the same line over and over ad naus-"

"You put him in danger!"

"You're wrong to keep him from me!"

"I'm protecting him!"

"He doesn't need your protec-"

"What is this?" Kingsley, finally home from work, entered the bathroom, his voice booming. Teddy stood naked in the bath, looking scared and sad. To one side of him, Andromeda held his harm in one hand and a wet flannel in the other. To his opposite side, Harry held the other arm and the towel.

"We're leaving," said Harry, not taking his eyes off Andromeda's.

"No, _you're_ leaving," said Andromeda. "Teddy is staying. He's staying for his visit, and he's staying the night. He's staying through the weekend. He's staying here, because this is his home, and I never should have let you take him from me! He's not yours! You can't throw him a lavish birthday party in two months, you can't send him to Muggle school in the fall, you can't pretend to be his father, and you can't bloody keep him! He! Is! Not! Yours!" She pulled him toward her.

Harry pulled back, harder. "He's not yours, either! And he deserves better than the hell you've put him through! He deserves better than you!"

Andromeda's eyes flashed dangerously. "You pompous, entitled little prick, you-"

"You're barely able to take care of yourself!" Harry shouted over her.

"Fuck off, Potter."

"Stop this, both of you!" Kingsley took the towel, wrapped it around Teddy, and took him from the tub.

"Teddy would have been better off if you'd never been named his godfather," snapped Andromeda, glaring murderously at the young man.

"No, Teddy would've been better off if you'd managed to do it properly last April!" said Harry furiously, but the moment the words left his mouth, his expression twisted into one of sheer horror.

All the anger drained from Andromeda's face, as did the color. It was as if she'd been stabbed straight through the chest, her breath was momentarily stolen from her. In a weak voice, she asked, "You think he'd have been better off if I'd managed to kill myself _properly_ last April?"

"No," said Harry. "No, I'm sorry, no, I didn't mean-"

Teddy wrapped his arms around Kingsley's neck and shook with sobs.

"Potter, that was unacceptable," said Kingsley calmly, but Andromeda could sense his fury. The words brought to mind Andromeda's during the Wizengamot hearing, and hearing them affirmed by the boy's godfather horrified him. "You may not say those things to her. You-"

"I'm sorry," said Harry softly, looking almost as stricken as she did. "I am, I really am."

"I'm taking Teddy to his room to dress," said Kingsley. "You're _both_ hurting this child, and you-" He again regarded Harry. "Have no idea how damaging your words could be. I won't allow this to continue."

He carried Teddy to his bedroom. Andromeda pushed her hair back from her eyes and faced Harry.

"I _am_ sorry, Andromeda," he said again, insistently. "I swear I didn't mean to say that."

"But you _think_ it," she said, her voice quivering. "You think I'd have done him a favor by dying, which is just what I thought at the time. Everyone told me I was wrong to feel that way, but _you_ think-"

"No!" exclaimed Harry. But he was never adept at Occlumency.

"Yes," argued Andromeda. _"You think it."_

"Sometimes, yes, I think it," he confessed after a beat, his voice far gentler than she'd heard it over the past year. "But I don't _mean_ it. I don't _believe_ it. He loves you. He asks all the time, 'When can I go home? When will I go home to Nana?' He... he wouldn't have been better off had you died. But..." He stood up straighter, and spoke matter-of-factly, "But I do think he would have been better off living with us from an earlier age. I shouldn't have let him stay with your sister while you were in that recovery place. I shouldn't have let him return to you after. Even Molly said, just the other night, that he's entire childhood would have been much more stable, less traumatic, had he been living with me and Ginny since-"

Andromeda threw up her hands. "Take him, then, if that's how you feel. Tell Kingsley you're taking him. Molly thinks he's better off with you. Hermione thinks he's better off with you. The bloody Wizengamot thinks he's better off with you. It appears the only one who _doesn't_ think he's better off with you is _me_. And I'm not exactly known for my sound judgement. So if you're such a bloody good parent, take him, keep him. Leave me to drink, to get high, to die. What does it matter? He'd have been better off, right?"

"No, wait, I-"

"But whatever you do, whatever happens with us or with Teddy, I don't want you in my house anymore, Harry Potter. Never again."

She turned and walked into the hall. He followed.

"Andromeda, please, I-"

She held up a hand, her back to him.

"I'm going to rest, and when I get up, I want you to be gone. And I mean it when I say I don't want you to come back. I don't ever want you in my… in my…" She took in a sharp, shaky breath. It felt as if her entire world was caving in around her. "You are _not_ welcome in my _home_."

"Andromeda-"

She shook her head, went into her bedroom, and closed the door, locking it with a wave of her wand. She crawled under the covers, turned to her side, and hugged the pillow. She couldn't cry. She was numb.

It was the way she felt after the Death Eaters left in 1997. She'd been tortured. Touched. Outed to Ted as a woman with a sexual past more extensive than he'd known. Humiliated.

This was worse.

Because when Harry said Teddy would have been better off had she killed herself a year before…

She believed him.

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

Overall, Saturday wasn't shaping up to be as bad as it could have been. She didn't seek out comfort or companionship from her sister or a friend, but she didn't seek it from alcohol either, and she didn't feel the urge to get high.

Until the Owl arrived.

 _Andromeda Tonks,_

 _This is your official notification that your supervised visitation with the minor Edward Remus Lupin ("Teddy") has been revoked due to a violation of terms committed on 12 February, 2004, as reported by Harry J. Potter and witnessed by Ministry Official (appointed supervisor) Nadiya Ahmed Chauncey._

 _You are henceforth ordered to refrain from communications with the minor Lupin until such time as a Hearing in front of the Partial Wizengamot can determine whether visitation should be reinstated. Your previously filed Appeal to the Wizengamot's December decision to award full physical and legal custody to the child's godfather, Harry J. Potter, and his wife, Ginevra Weasley Potter, will also be considered at that time._

 _Your court date has been set for 29 February, 2004._

 _If you will be presenting witnesses to speak in your favor at the aforementioned Hearing, you must submit forms 3640B and 3642C no less than forty-eight (48) hours prior._

 _In the interim, no visitation or contact between yourself and the minor Lupin shall be permitted. _

_Violation of the above will result in a termination of your appeal, thus reaffirming the custodial rights of Harry J. and Ginevra W. Potter.._

 _Should you have any questions, contact Cecile Brown of the Partial Wizengamot by Owl._

 _Cordially,_

 _Griselda Marchbanks_

 _First Witch of the Wizengamot_

 _Order of Merlin: Second Class_

She felt sick.

Stunned.

Destroyed.

Today, of all days?

Nymphadora's birthday?

The day Hestia went into labor?

On a day she's all alone?

They had to send her this _today?_

She had no alcohol in the house.

She had no access to Elven Herb.

She had no one to lean on, to cry to. No one she knew who could understand what she was feeling.

But she had a kitchen knife.

And before she was able to comprehend the consequences of what she was about to do, she was bleeding.

 **FRIDAY**

 **13 FEBRUARY**

"I'm in love with you." Kingsley wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed the back of her neck. It was early, dawn, and he'd have to be getting ready for work soon, but he didn't want to leave her.

"I love you, too, Kingsley," she said softly. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Just as he was spooning her, she was holding Teddy. She's struggled to get out of bed the night before, after what Harry said, but to his credit (and precious little credit was due) Harry's guilt had led to him agreeing that Teddy could stay the night with them, provided Kingsley was present the entire time.

"Hermione will be here for him at quarter to eight." This was because Kingsley would have to leave by five to eight to be at work on time.

"I know," said Andromeda weakly. "Kingsley? I'm sorry for last night."

"I'm sorry you told Harry he could keep Teddy." Kingsley stretched his arm farther to wrap it around both his fiancée and the boy at the same time. "He'll use that against us during the appeal."

"I wasn't thinking."

"I know."

"Sometimes, I don't think."

He half-smiled, though it was a sad smile. "I know."

"I'm sorry we made Teddy cry." It had taken a long time to calm him the night before. A long time, during which Harry was not present, as he'd already relayed the conversation to Kingsley, agreed to let the boy stay over, and gone before Kingsley used Alohomora to open the door and crawled into bed with her, crying Teddy in his arms.

"Nana?" Teddy had nuzzled against her, hiccupping through tears. "Nana? I don't want you to die."

"I'm not dying, Teddy, my little love."

"What did Harry mean?" asked Teddy. "Why he said 'did it properly'? What's 'kill myself'?"

"Oh, Teddy, I'm sorry."

"Your grandmother was sick," said Kingsley. "You know that. We've talked about it. Before she got help for her sickness, she could have died. You know that, too."

Teddy nodded.

"Harry thinks by not getting help sooner, Nana could have… have killed herself. Accidentally. He's angry about that."

"Oh," said Teddy.

"But I don't want to die, my little love." She wrapped him in her arms. "I intend to stay alive for as long as you need me."

"Forever, then, Nana." He rested his cheek to her chest, listening to her heartbeat, the way he had as a baby. "Please? I need you forever."

"Then I shall have no choice but to live forever."

Eventually, with Kingsley's coaxing, they'd managed to get out of the bed. They ate breakfast for dinner, eggs and toast and potatoes and tomatoes, with orange juice. Then they did some painting, Andromeda gave Teddy a proper bath, and they got back into bed. Teddy insisted upon sleeping in hers, and neither she nor Kingsley objected. They took turns reading aloud to him until he fell asleep, then they talked quietly until they, too, were exhausted.

At precisely quarter to eight, Hermione arrived via Floo Network.

"Will you be alright home alone?" Kingsley asked, once Teddy and Hermione had gone.

"I'm going to eat, do the crossword, and visit Narcissa."

"I'll come home for lunch. Be here at noon?"

She knew his intention was to check up on her, but she didn't mind. She pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.

"I'll be here at noon."

But nerves ate away at him, so he arrived home at ten-thirty instead, to find her curled up on the couch looking through an album of Nymphadora's baby pictures.

"I told them I had one of my headaches," he explained. "They can reach me by Patronus if absolutely necessary."

"You're too good to me." Andromeda moved over to let him join her on the couch. She snuggled up beside him.

"Not good enough," said Kingsley. "I should have hexed Harry last night."

"How do you remain calm?"

"Auror training." He sniffed her hair. "You smell good."

"I always smell good." She rested her palm against the center of his chest. "I wish you _had_ hexed him."

"We need to be more careful as far as he's concerned, Andromeda. And Hermione, too. I like her, and Draco is family, but she talks. She talks to Harry. She sees herself as neutral, wanting only what's best for Teddy and hoping you and Harry will someday wake up and suddenly get on like old friends co-parenting or some rubbish."

"There is a list of people I hate, and, on it, Harry ranks higher than the cat."

"He means well."

Andromeda pulled away. "Don't you start making excuses for him!"

"There's no excuse for what he said. But you and I both know he thinks he's protecting Teddy."

"So you've said. Countless times."

"Yes, I have. And you know it's the truth."

She sighed. "When he said… what he did… last night, I… something in me, broke. Only for a moment. Or… several minutes. But he's no Occlumens, and I… I could _feel_ what he was feeling, in that moment. I could see through his eyes. I saw the pain I've caused Teddy, the danger I've put him in, and if I look at it through Harry's eyes, my love, I understand why he took him away. I haven't been a fit parent. And I… I don't know if I can be a fit parent. Long-term. I don't know."

"Andromeda…" Kingsley coaxed her back to him. "I think it might be time to seriously consider, then, what we think is best for Teddy, long-term… and whether that might not be us."

 **SATURDAY**

 **14 FEBRUARY**

Healer Smelthwick held both of Andromeda's hands in hers.

"We've discussed this before, but let's discuss it again," said the Healer. "In your heart of hearts, Andromeda – do you _truly_ feel you can give Teddy the home he deserves? The love he needs? The safety and security? The discipline and education? Are you capable of being both his nana and his mother?"

Andromeda stared down at their joined hands. Healer Smelthwick's were darker than hers, though not as dark as Kingsley's, and showed more signs of age. She wore a diamond wedding ring on her left hand and a silver mother's ring on her right, with four brightly colored stones. Her nails were short, painted pale pink. Her hands were soft and her touch was calming, odd considering how little use Andromeda had for platonic physical comfort prior to her twelve week stay in the facility.

"Yes," said Andromeda after a long pause. "Yes, I think I can. I think I'm capable. In my heart? I believe he belongs here."

"Then we'll keep this..." She gestured to the wound. "Between us, and we'll also continue to do all we can to bring him home to you."

The fireplace flared up then, and out stepped Kingsley, looking haggard. Healer Smelthwick sat back in her chair. Andromeda leapt up from the couch.

Kingsley did not seem surprised to see the Healer there, nor did he address her.

He reached for Andromeda.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well," he said. "An hour ago, the baby was born."

* * *

 **A/N:**

This was rough, I know, but the good news is, it'll get better from here, right? It has to! Andromeda has definitely suffered enough. Next week, Kingsley's parents arrive, we learn more about the baby, and they have to throw themselves into planning their wedding, since it's coming up quick! I'm undecided about their honeymoon. I want to send them somewhere nice, somewhere they have't been. They deserve the break. Any thoughts?

Thank you so very much to last chapter's reviewers, **KnowInsight, ahorizonfornewbirds, lilikaco, banglabou, FrancineHibiscus, NazChick, sassanech,** and **JacqP**. I love reading your reactions!

 **-AL**


	47. Part Four: Week 8

**CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK EIGHT**

 **SUNDAY**

 **15 FEBRUARY**

Kingsley awoke early Sunday morning, rolled onto his side, and quietly regarded the woman in bed beside him.

Her thick, tangled hair was fanned out across the pillow, as it was every morning. The curls were graying again - he didn't know when she'd last colored it - and he wasn't sure how long since it was last brushed, either. He reached out to softly stroke a particularly well-formed ringlet. She didn't stir. Even though they were closed, he could tell that her eyes were still puffy from having sobbed so much the day before, and there were dark circles underneath. On her arm, which was flung up over her head, she had a long, fresh scar. He gently ran his fingertips down the cut, from just under her inner elbow to her wrist. This, he assumed, had been why the Healer had called. Though he didn't know _how_ the Healer had known to come. He hadn't asked.

The night before had passed in a blur, and he didn't even need alcohol to make it so.

Andromeda looked a mess, but also beautiful. Peaceful in slumber. No nightmares, not at the moment. He'd know. She always twitched and tossed and turned when she had nightmares. Sometimes she cried out. Sometimes she just cried.

The night before, after Healer Smelthwick had gone, he lay on the couch with his head in Andromeda's lap, her palms pressing his temples. She'd not said much, just let him talk. And talk. And talk. Eventually, they ate soup and bread, then retired early. During the night, still half-asleep, he'd reached for her, and she'd given herself to him. At some point after that, she'd pulled back on her oversized t-shirt, tidied up, righted the bedclothes, and used the loo, but he'd not bothered with pajamas or anything else.

"Andromeda?" he whispered. She did not respond. He leaned down, kissed her cheek, and extracted himself from the bed.

After a hot shower, he returned to the bedroom to find her still curled up, now with her cheek to her pillow, hugging his pillow to her chest. He adjusted the towel around his waist, sat beside her, and brushed her hair back from her face.

"Andromeda, are you awake?"

"No," she murmured, eyes still closed. "Sleep."

"Yes. You sleep."

He kissed her again, stood, and removed the towel. Minutes later, he was dressed in dark blue jeans and a white jumper, ready for a day spent in the company of Muggles, and headed down to the kitchen for coffee and to read the morning Prophet. He'd no sooner sat down at the table, though, when he spotted the letter.

 _Andromeda Tonks,_

 _This is your official notification that your supervised visitation has been revoked due to a violation of terms…_

"What?" He quickly skimmed the rest, swore under his breath, and slammed it down on the table.

This had gone far enough.

He was done.

He threw on his shoes and stepped into the fireplace without a plan.

"Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

The drawing room was empty.

"Potter!" he shouted. "Where are you, Potter? Come here! Potter? Potter!"

"Kingsley?" Harry entered from the direction of the hall, a piece of toast in hand. "What-"

Kingsley grabbed him by the front of his shirt, his arm horizontally flush against the young man's chest, and shoved him up against the wall. Harry, being considerably shorter and caught off-guard, was barely standing on his tiptoes. His face contorted into an expression of shock, then anger.

"Let me go!"

"Shut up, Potter." Kingsley pulled him slightly forward, then shoved him back again. "Revoking her visitation? You had no right to-"

Harry squirmed but couldn't get free. "As Teddy's legal guardian, I had every right to-"

"As Minister for Magic, I have rights, too. And I'll be exercising those rights this morning."

"What do you-?"

"I am henceforth removing the minor child, Edward Lupin, from your custody. As you have proven yourself to be unfit-"

"How so!" Harry struggled again, but the Minister did not loosen his grip, and he couldn't get to his wand, though he did drop the toast.

"Multiple times, you have left the minor Lupin in the care of a woman you have repeatedly assured the Wizengamot is a danger to him. This has included overnights outside of her supervised visits. This reflects poor judgment, parental neglect, and child endangerment. It's also been reported that you've hosted house parties at which witches and wizards have partaken in the smoking of Elven Herb, an illegal substance. The child will therefore be placed in the temporary custody of his closest stable blood relation, Draco Malfoy."

"You think Malfoy's just going to-"

"Upon releasing him to Draco Malfoy, I will be summoning the First Witch of the Partial Wizengamot for an emergency hearing, with the order that a decision for official custody be made within seven days of your official notice – which you're receiving right now."

Kingsley let go of Harry and stepped back, still glaring forebodingly down at him.

"You-you can't do this!" sputtered Harry. "I-"

"I _can_ do this. As Minister for Magic, it is well within my power to do this. I should have done it long ago. And I'm having your protective order rescinded. She'll not be losing her visitation."

"The Wizengamot won't agree to-"

"They don't have to. Any such order should have been approved by me. I'd recused myself from all formal decisions regarding Teddy because I felt my professional position was at odds with my personal one; a conflict of interest. I no longer feel that way, and will be informing Madam Marchbanks of that today."

"But-"

"Where is Teddy? It's time to go."

"Where am I going?" A tiny figure stepped into the room. His face brightened, but with uncertainty. "Am I going home?"

"Not home," said Kingsley. "Not yet. You're going to stay with Draco and Hermione at Malfoy Manor."

"Oh." Teddy's face fell. "But I want Nana. I want my room. I want-"

"You want to live with us, don't you, Teddy?" asked Harry. He knelt down and gestured for the boy to come face him. "You want Grimmauld Place to be your home. With me and Ginny, baby James Sirius. The new baby, too. They'll be your little brothers, or brother and sister. You'll have a real family. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"Is it?" asked Kingsley. "Or is it what _you've_ wanted, Potter?"

"I have a real family," said Teddy, looking confused. "Healer Bonham says so. She says there's all kinds of families. Mine has a Nana and a Kingsley and a Dorcas and a Meow-meow. It's not the same like lots of other kids, but it's mine, and it's good."

Kingsley's breath hitched in his throat. Was he doing the right thing, exercising his power and using his position to get the boy back faster, or would he end up hurting him again, hurting him worse, by ripping him out of yet another home, placing him in his fourth house in under a year?

"Your grandmother will still be part of your family," said Harry, squeezing the boy's upper arms reassuringly. "But you won't see her every day. You'll see her on holidays, weekends, special times, like other children and their grandmothers. You can visit with her whenever you wish, long as she's able. The way it should be."

"I can stay here, but see Nana whenever I wish?" asked Teddy, looking from one man to the other.

Kingsley's anger flamed up again.

"No," he said.

"No?" asked Teddy.

"Kingsley-"

"Don't lie to the boy, Potter."

"Kings-"

"Teddy, Harry has decided you shouldn't see Nana anymore. Not for a long time, anyway. He's gotten the Wizengamot to tell her she's not allowed to see you, not allowed to attend your Quidditch matches or have you home for Thursday visits."

"How could you tell him that?" Harry hurried to his feet. "You'll hurt him! How could you-"

"What did _you_ intend to tell him?" asked Kingsley. "When he couldn't visit this week. When she couldn't see him play. Were you going to say she didn't want to? Or that she was sick again?"

Harry looked away.

"That's it, then. You were going to lie, to tell him she's sick again. You think that doesn't hurt him?"

"You don't want Nana to see me?" asked Teddy.

"I don't think it's good for you, seeing her right now," said Harry carefully. "I don't believe she's good for you. You have to understand, Teddy. I-"

"But I don't understand!" Teddy's face crumbled. "Why you hate Nana?"

"I don't-"

"And Nana hates you? Because of me?"

"No!" Harry and Kingsley assured him together.

"I don't want to live with Draco." Tears welled up in Teddy's eyes. "I don't want to live with Auntie Cissy. I don't want to live at Grimmauld Place." His nose twitched, and the tears came down. "I want to go home!"

"Splendid!" Ginny, cradling the baby in her arms, shuffled into the room. "Teddy's crying. Again. Why now?"

"Does he cry often?" asked Kingsley, concerned. He knelt down and opened his arms. Teddy rushed into them for a hug.

"Only several times per day. Always the same. 'I want my nana. I want to go home.'" She shot Harry a sharp look. "But I'm told he's adjusting well and happier here than he was with you."

"He's certainly safer!" Harry said insistently.

Ginny, who looked pale, exhausted, and annoyed, shook her head. "I'm off to my mother's. She's going to watch the baby for a few hours so I can rest."

"I could watch the baby," said Harry, who seemed surprised by this. "He's my baby."

"You're busy with Teddy. You're always busy with Teddy. Except when you're busy with work. Work, Teddy. Teddy, work. You're a busy man, Harry. But don't worry about us. We're fine.." She turned, and, without another word, left the room.

Kingsley cocked an eyebrow and glanced up at Harry over Teddy's shoulder.

"Perhaps you ought to get your own home in order before going before the Wizengamot again to rant against ours." He stood, hoisting the child up with him. "You won't be with Draco and Hermione long, I promise."

"This is ridiculous, Kingsley! You're using Teddy as… as a… a pawn! You're… you're only taking him away to make your bloody girlfriend happy, not because it's what's best for him! This isn't about Teddy for you, it's about Andromeda!"

"Oh?" Kingsley sneered, an uncommon expression for him. "And for you, it's not about Andromeda? Not at all? Can you honestly say you've made your decisions one hundred percent with Teddy in mind, Teddy alone? And not to punish Andromeda?"

"You're too good to her."

Kingsley snorted. "Too good?"

"I don't understand you, honestly. If Ginny... if she's done me the way Andromeda has you, I don't think I'd be able to look at her, let alone sleep beside..." Harry cut off, glancing at Teddy. "It's as if the two of you want everyone to pretend what happened between you, and what she did, and all Teddy's been through all happened in the long past. It's been less than a year since she went to the facility! Less than a year! And it's not as though... it's not... I mean, what she did! What she was doing! _Who_ she was... you know! Behind your back, right under your nose! Leaving Teddy in danger the entire time! What she's done-"

"All these years, Harry," said Kingsley slowly, his deep voice steady. "Before the war, during, since. _All these years,_ and you haven't learned a damn thing about forgiveness? About pain? Sacrifice? Grief? I would think you, of all people, might be able to empathize with Andromeda."

Harry opened his mouth to nastily retort, but Teddy twisted in Kingsley's arms to look at him, and the sight of the boy's tear-stained face halted him. The anger drained, replaced by resignation.

"My parents died in the first war, just as his did in the second," said Harry softly. "I was raised by two people who had no business raising me, who only caused me pain, while the one person who could have raised me as my mum and dad would've wanted, my godfather, was in prison for a crime he didn't commit."

"But he's not you, and you're not Sir-"

"Please." Harry held up a hand. "Listen. Over the past year, I've watched Teddy _suffer_ from neglect, just as I experienced. I've watched him have nightmares, experience separation anxiety, develop a number of new fears. My aunt Petunia could have cared for me properly, but she didn't want to. Andromeda wants to care for him properly, but she hasn't been able to. The reasons why are irrelevant. What matters is that Teddy gets to grow up in a safe, happy home, raised the way his parents would have wanted, and not in a house where he's been neglected, where he's afraid." Harry pushed his hair back, away from his eyes, unintentionally showing off the scar, and sighed.

"I won't be dismissive of what's happened," said Kingsley, hugging Teddy a little tighter. "But-"

"Be honest with both of us, Kingsley. You knew Tonks. You knew Lupin. Do you think, looking back on _all_ these last twelve months, their child has lived the life they would have _wanted?_ I know you love Andromeda, and she'll always be his grandmother, but do you truly feel she's been a good _mother_? Do you think she's spent the last year being a good _mother_ to Teddy?"

"No," said Kingsley simply. "All these twelve months? No. She hasn't. At this time last year, she wasn't. And in April of last year, she was at her worst. From May through July, she wasn't with him at all. But things have changed. She's-"

"Better every day," interjected Teddy quietly. He nuzzled his face against Kingsley's neck.

"Better every day," repeated Kingsley. "And you can't simply forget about the years she did it before, alone, and well. Feeding and changing him when he was a newborn. Dealing with teething, toilet training, shoe-tying, all of that. She's not only kept him alive all on her own for most of the last six years, she's made sure that he's thrived."

"Until she couldn't anymore."

"But that doesn't mean she can't now!" Kingsley took a deep breath to keep from getting angry again, but he was sick of running in circles with the young man, always back to the same thing. "She's doing everything that's been asked of her. She and I are more than capable of raising one small boy as his parents would have wished. As I said, Teddy is not you and you are not Sirius and – most importantly – she and I are not your aunt and uncle."

"She's irrational and impulsive. The night of his last visit proved that. She hasn't yet been clean a year, nor sober for two full months, has she?"

Kingsley didn't answer.

"She has… demons. You know she does, Kingsley. And I'm not convinced three months in that facility has cured her of anything. She could relapse. She already did, to some extent, in December. What if you leave her and she goes right back to it? To all of it?"

"Leave her?" This momentarily threw Kingsley. "What do you mean, leave her? I love her. I intend to marry her. Soon. We'll be married in a fortnight. I won't be leaving her."

"No? Never?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "When's Hestia's baby due?"

Kingsley stiffened. Teddy's grip tightened around his neck.

"You're telling me you can be a good substitute father for Teddy, while you have no interest in your own child?"

"You're one to talk." Kingsley's eyes narrowed. "Where's your wife now? At her mother's, pregnant and exhausted, in need of a sitter because you're too busy."

"You can't tell me you never considered leaving Andromeda, Kingsley," said Harry, ignoring this jab, though the clenching of his left fist belied his calm expression. "It must have hurt you, when the truth about her recent… activities… were printed in the Prophet. You're honestly telling me you never for a moment thought about-"

"Not for a moment."

"Then you're a better man than I am, because if I found out Ginny'd been blowing blokes for-"

"Not in front of the boy," snapped Kingsley harshly. Teddy flinched.

"I don't know what you want from me." Harry sighed, pulled out his wand, and Vanished the toast he'd dropped earlier. "I'm not going to drop my petition for permanent custody. If you insist upon using your powers at Minister for Magic to take him away today and place him with Draco and Hermione, that's entirely your decision, but it won't change mine."

"Harry-"

"I know Andromeda wants to do better and I know Ginny is exhausted and I know it's possible none of you are ever going to forgive me, but I would never forgive myself if I sent him back to an unsafe place yet again, when I know in my heart he's better off here, with us. I'm sorry. That's my decision."

"Very well," said Kingsley. "And this is mine. We'll send for his things."

Kingsley headed toward the door. Teddy clung tightly to him, closed his eyes, and did not say goodbye to his godfather.

When Andromeda awoke, she was alone in bed and in the house. She stepped into the shower and thought back to her short-lived stint as a cigarette smoker. Perhaps she shouldn't have given that up so quickly. She could do with something to calm her nerves. A potion. A drink.

Something injectable, perhaps.

"Don't think that way," she scolded herself out loud. In need of tension relief, she summoned into the bathroom a waterproof vibrating toy instead, and decided to draw a bath rather than finish the shower.

"This is what I should have developed an addiction to," she joked to herself in a whisper. By the time she'd stepped out, dried, and dressed, she expected Kingsley to have returned from wherever he'd gone.

He hadn't.

He couldn't possibly be visiting that little slag and her bastard baby, could he? He had no reason to be. Not after last night.

Unless he had regrets.

Her stomach churned.

She sat on the couch and tried to do the crossword, but couldn't concentrate. She then painted her nails, attempted to pet the stupid cat, and flipped through the latest Quibbler, but nothing worked to sufficiently distract her. She had just about convinced herself he and Hestia had run off together to make a dozen babies when the fireplace whooshed to life, and out he stepped.

"Teddy lives at Malfoy Manor now," he said.

She dropped the magazine onto the floor.

"What?"

"It's been a long morning." He plopped down beside her on the couch. The cat hopped up into his lap, purring and seeking pets.

"I don't understand."

"Who's a pretty kitty?" he cooed at the fluffy monster. "Who's my sweet girl?"

"Me." Andromeda shoved the cat off his thigh and slipped into his lap, facing him. "I'm your sweet girl." She cradled his face in her hands, studying him. "What's that about Teddy and Malfoy Manor? Where have you been?"

"No need to use Legilimency on me, woman." He lightly smacked her thigh. "I'll tell you everything."

He told her everything.

When he was done, she retreated from his lap, moving instead into Healer Smelthwick's usual chair.

"I don't know whether to hug you or hex you. Have you had that power all this time?"

"I'd relinquished it early in the process. I thought it best, for a number of reasons, to ensure everything was above board, to show no impartiality and not to use my position to our advantage, as I assumed the system would work in our favor without intervention. I no longer feel that way. And, honestly, I don't know that I've done the right thing. Harry was providing a stable home, and he does love him. Hermione and Draco… they weren't exactly thrilled by the idea of suddenly becoming temporary parents. Draco asked why his mother couldn't take the boy, as though she hasn't been in the facility herself since Christmas. I couldn't very well place him there!"

"I'll visit him this afternoon!" She lit up. "I'll-"

"No, you can't visit. Not until they've reversed their decision to rescind your visitation rights. I tried to get that thrown out, but I couldn't. We've appealed, though."

"Oh." Her smile disappeared. "Another appeal."

"I don't know if I did the right thing. Today, I was the irrational one. I read your notice, I saw his face, I thought about how hurt you must have been while I was gone yesterday, that gash on your arm, how you must have-"

"I love you." She hurried back to his lap, again having to move the cat out of the way before straddling him. "Kingsley, I love you. Don't apologize. Do not apologize. I only wish I'd been there to see you put him up against the wall, that self-righteous, inflated little prick. I have hope now." She pressed her lips quickly to his. "I have hope, and I want him back, and I know... I know we can... we'll be good parents, Kingsley. To Dorcas, too. And... and to... you know... if she... should she change her mind."

"Should she change her mind." He kissed her back. "I don't want that child to ever feel unwanted. When they handed the baby to me, I... I couldn't stop thinking about your friend, about Tom's wife, about-"

"How they hadn't wanted her, because she'd been the result of an affair. How her mother, stepmother, and father all resented her..."

"I don't want that for-"

"No, no, never, that baby won't ever feel unwanted."

"If she doesn't want us in the baby's life, I'll respect that, I told her I would, but should she change her mind-"

"I will love that child because she's yours." Andromeda rested her forehead against his. "I promise, I'll treat her just as you treat Teddy."

"I love Teddy. I love you."

"I didn't know it could be this way, Kingsley," she whispered. "Love, I mean. Except... except from Nymphadora, it's always been conditional. With everyone. My mother and father. My sisters. Even Ted. He didn't love me the same way after what I did, and he made sure I knew it. Every day. But you... I've done you worse than anyone else..." Her face crumpled as she started to cry. "Worse than anyone else I've ever loved, and I don't understand how it is you're still here, but you _are,_ and I... I didn't know... I didn't know I could be who I am and fuck up as I have and still be loved!"

"My beautiful, intelligent, perfectly imperfect woman." He wrapped him arms more tightly around her and initiated a kiss. "You'll marry me in fourteen days exactly, and then you'll not be able to get rid of me. There's never been a divorce in the Shacklebolt family and I do not intend to be first."

She chuckled through her tears. "Is that a threat, Minister?"

"No. It means if you'd like to be single again in the future, you'll have to slip poison into my tea. That's all."

She laughed.

He rested his hands on her bum and kissed her again.

"In fourteen days, I'll marry you, Kingsley Shacklebolt, even though you are a terrible cook, a horrible slob, and, in general, far too good for me. I've never been more sure of anything."

"Then we'll adopt Teddy. Officially, legally. He can call you nana, but you'll be his legal mother, and I'll be his father, and-"

"I'll take your name. I want to share your name. Is that alright?"

"My name, my bed, my life…"

"Everything."

 **FRIDAY**

 **20 FEBRUARY**

"They're going to be here any minute, Cissy, and this place is a disaster!"

Narcissa glanced around Andromeda's spotless sitting room, clearly confused.

"There's not an item out of place, not a picture frame undusted, not a-"

"Those couch cushions are crooked!" Andromeda's voice rose two octaves. "Look, when you were sitting, you rumpled them!"

"Calm yourself! Have a biscuit."

"No! Keep that tin closed, I can't have crumbs."

Kingsley's parents would be arriving in under an hour. Under an hour they'd be at the house, then they'd be staying over a week at the Minister's official headquarters, with his sister and her family coming tomorrow. They were all planning to attend the wedding.

"What if they hate me on sight?" Andromeda asked her sister, reaching for the biscuit tin.

"Are you cooking dinner?"

"Sunday, for everyone. Tonight, we're going out. Tomorrow, house-elves are preparing a large meal at Kingsley's... I don't know what to call it, his other home." She smiled shakily. "Dorcas will be with us for the weekend. Teddy, too, during dinners. The whole family, save for... you know."

"Oh?" Narcissa settled on the couch, careful not to disturb the 'good' pillows. "Then you're having visits again?"

"Draco or Hermione must be present at all times during all visits. Which means they must happen on their schedule. Same should Harry want to see him. Wish I could've seen his face when he got the letter!"

"For how long are my son and his fiancee expected to raise your grandson? They have their own wedding to plan, remember. And it won't be simple as yours. I still cannot believe you're refusing to let me do any of your planning." She scoffed. "A Ministry courtroom with an at-home reception."

"Hermione and Draco are having an at-home reception!"

"At Malfoy Manor! Not at the official residence of the Minister for Magic!"

"The official residence is lovely!"

"It's... official looking. You could let me hire a decorator."

"I'm letting you dress shop with me. Be happy about that or I'll change my mind and wear the same thing I wore to my last wedding."

"McGonagall herself couldn't Transfigure you small enough to fit into the Hogwarts uniform you wore for your last wedding."

"Fuck off!" Andromeda threw one of her perfect pillows at her sister. Narcissa swatted it before it hit her face.

They both laughed, then sat in silence, thinking.

"Cissy?" said Andromeda after a few moments. "What if they hate me? Kingsley's parents. They didn't like Hestia. They didn't like his first love, either. They-"

"Sounds like they don't like women who get pregnant by him, which means you're safe."

"I'm serious!"

"Sirius is dead, dear. You're Andromeda."

"Narcissa."

"I'm sorry." Narcissa reached across the couch to take her hand. "They might not like you. I hope they do. But they may not. And you have to be alright with that. What's important is Kingsley loves you. Which of them is taking Teddy on Saturday for dinner?"

"Both, then just Hermione on Sunday. She agreed to help me and Dorcas with the cooking, though I can't help thinking Draco might be of more assistance. Least he can bake."

"Could I come? Tomorrow night? This way, if... if you're feeling anxious, I'll be there."

"Please. I'd like that. Bring Severus. And Hope. I'll tell the house-elves three more. Kingsley's sister has children. They can play together, all of them."

"Speaking of children..."

"His mother wants to meet the baby. Hestia doesn't... She won't... She still says she wants to go it alone. She says she doesn't need Kingsley. But, this morning, she sent this."

Andromeda hopped up and hurried to the mantle. A small moving black and white photograph was tucked into the bottom corner of the framed photo of Kingsley's late son. She brought it to her sister.

"Oh, she's darling, isn't she? Aww!" cooed Narcissa. "That tiny nose. Those fingers!"

In the photograph, the newborn was asleep, but squirming. One of her hands had come free from her blankets. She had dark, straight hair, and a lot of it, and was completely perfect.

"Look at the shape of her lips," said Andromeda, pointing. "They're his."

"Yes! And I just want to pinch those tiny cheeks! I wish we could see her feet. I love babies' feet, don't you?"

"I'm partial to their knees myself. Especially when they're fat. Nymphadora had fluffy little knees and thighs."

"Draco had the sweetest little toes."

"Did he?" Andromeda stared down at the baby in the photograph. "I wish we could have known each other's children as babies."

"I wish I hadn't been so stupid." Narcissa shook her head. "But I know Teddy, and you know Hope, and... and that's the best we can do, isn't it?"

"Hope's knees are still pudgy. Teddy's are knobby now." Andromeda smiled. "He's not a toddler anymore. Sometimes that's hard for me to believe. Almost six! He has two loose teeth."

"Do you think he loves her?"

"Do I think who loves who?"

"Kingsley."

"Do I think Kingsley loves... the baby? Or Hestia?"

"The baby!" Narcissa looked scandalized. "The baby, I meant, of course!"

"As much as he didn't want to be a father again, I think he fell completely in love the moment he set eyes on her. We talked about it Saturday night. He had a headache. And he cried. He didn't want her to be his, but he saw her, and he knew she was, and... yes. He loves her. But Hestia told him... she said..."

"I know." Narcissa had heard what Hestia said last Sunday afternoon. And again several more times throughout the week. But Andromeda seemed to need to tell her again.

"She said she didn't want to raise her daughter in a broken home, shuffled back and forth from Mum's to Dad's, not feeling like she belonged anywhere. She said she'd rather do it all by herself and not trouble Kingsley, not even for financial support. He insisted he'd send her money anyway, and he told her he hoped she change her mind about the rest. He said he thinks the two of them could manage to coparent separately without making the child feel like her home is broken. He's hoping she'll come around." Andromeda smiled down at the baby in the picture. "We received her letter before he left for work this morning. The note read, 'Born 14 February, 2004. No name yet.'"

"Still?"

"Still. Nearly a week old and nameless."

"What about Rose? Rose is lovely. Or Lyric?"

"I don't think we get a say, Cissy. She doesn't even want Kingsley to visit, remember?"

"Lyric is a lovely name, don't you think?"

"It's fine."

"Evangeline Buckle, remember her from Hogwarts?"

Andromeda nodded. She'd been a year between them in Slytherin.

"I saw her at the shops on Tuesday with her granddaughter, Lyric. That's where I heard the name. She's Hope's age. We made plans to have the girls play together soon. Evangeline, she's..." Narcissa shifted uncomfortably. "She's..."

"She's...?"

"She's raising her granddaughter now, she said. Her daughter, Lila, died."

"Died? So young?"

"Overdose."

"Oh!" Andromeda scratched at her newest scar, the long one on her arm. "Seems to be catching, doesn't it? You hear about it more and more, lately."

"Because of you."

"What?"

Narcissa half-smiled. "Because of you."

"What do you mean because of me?"

"Evangeline told me she'd spent the last two years telling people her daughter's heart gave out due to an unknown condition, but after she read your article, she started telling people the truth. Her daughter had been... attacked... four years ago. That's how Lyric came to be. And Evangeline said Lila loved her daughter, but she didn't get... she didn't get help, and she turned to potions, and then laudanum. She overdosed. And her mother's started telling people now, because of you. She thinks, if people didn't feel so ashamed, like she did, they might get help for their loved ones, like you got. Like we got."

"Don't do that." Andromeda picked up the pillow and swatted Narcissa with it. "Don't get me emotional, not now, not when Kingsley's parents are due here any time!"

"But Evangeline and I were talking, Meda. People have always had... problems. Alcohol, elven herb, potions... but until you, they weren't talking about it, it was all very hushed, and-"

"And now I've gone and made myself the poster girl for addiction." Andromeda stood and moved to the mantle, to return the baby's picture to its place.

"Good! That's good, Meda! Maybe the next Evangeline will recognize what's happening with her daughter and, instead of being angry or ashamed, she'll get her helped before it's too late! You could be saving lives, speaking out! Including mine."

"Yours?"

"I felt awful after I got you pissed that night. And I'd been a mess leading up to it because of the nightmares. I was drinking. But this time, Severus didn't have to force me into the Facility. No one did. I wanted to go. I didn't appreciate it when we were there before, but I saw what it did for you, and I thought, maybe it could help me that much, too. And it did!"

"I do love you, Cissy, but if you keep talking I'm going to hex your mouth closed so I don't have to hear."

"You _love_ me?" Narcissa asked teasingly. "Aww, my big sister _loves_ me! She thinks I'm pretty and sweet and smart and absolutely perfect in every way."

"She thinks none of those things," said Andromeda dryly.

"Yes, she does!"

"Shut up." Andromeda tried to bite back a smile. "Shut up, you vapid, daft, bubble-headed egotist."

"And I love her, too." Narcissa rose, fixed the pillow, and blew Andromeda a kiss. She laughed.

"Are you leaving, finally?"

"I am. Whatever happens tonight, remember - your self-worth is not in any way dependent upon their acceptance of you."

"Thank you, Healer Snape. Now, if you don't mind, get the hell out."

Narcissa Flooed home, even though it was close enough to walk, leaving Andromeda alone, but only for a moment.

"Kingsley!" She rushed to greet him as he stepped out of the fireplace. "I was afraid they'd arrive before you!"

"Busy day, of course. Couldn't have an easy one. But we've got a hearing date set for Teddy's cust-"

A knock at the door silenced him.

"That'll be them."

"We can do this." Kingsley hugged Andromeda briefly, and kissed her cheek, and led the way to the door.

"What if they hate me?" she whispered.

"If they do, we won't name _any_ of our future children after them."

Andromeda rolled her eyes.

Kingsley opened the door.

Standing on the top step, bundled up in winter coats and hats and scarves, were two people about twenty years older than Andromeda. The man had Kingsley's deep, thoughtful brown eyes. The woman had his perfectly shaped lips.

"Mum, Dad!" Kingsley stepped back into the hall. "Please, come in."

* * *

 **A/N:**

So 'end of week 8' really covered more of the rest of the end of week 7 than of week 8, but I hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter you really meet Kingsley's family... and a wedding is planned. (yay!)

I have to be honest, I wrote and rewrote parts of this chapter because, after everything, I waffled over whether the child should be Kingsley's. I'd always planned for it to be, but then when I wrote the last couple of chapters, I started to think about redoing things because I felt like he and Andromeda had been through so much, and it would be easier for them not to have this, too. But I ultimately decided to go with my first choice, which was to have it be Kingsley's baby girl. Still not sure it was the right choice, but didn't want to go back and forth anymore!

Thanks for reading! And an extra thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter - **Francesca** (your English is great!) **, Suspicious Minds, LeiaKitten, KnowInsight, Banglabou, clarasnotlikely, lilikaco, Nacf,** and **NazChick!** :)

 **-AL**


	48. Part Four: Week 9

**CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT**

 **PART FOUR: END OF WEEK NINE**

 **1970-1973**

 **OVER 30 YEARS AGO**

"Excuse me, sir. We're here… we're… we signed up… er…" Ted Tonks shuffled his feet and tried to smile. "For… the… marriage?"

The Ministry magistrate raised an eyebrow, then gave the two teenagers standing before him a good looking over.

"Edward Tonks and Andromeda Black?" he asked.

"Yes," they said in unison.

"You're both of age?" His eyes narrowed to a glare. "Better be. We're not in the business of enabling child elopement here."

"We're of age," said Ted. "I'll be eighteen in September and she's seventeen today!"

"That's right," whispered Andromeda.

Ted slipped his hand in hers. She looked slightly sick to her stomach, but when he squeezed, she squeezed back.

"Where are your parents?" The magistrate directed this at Andromeda, but Ted answered.

"They don't agree with us… being together. Mine are Muggles, Catholics, and hers are…"

"Cygnus and Druella Black," Andromeda whispered.

"You _are_ one of Cygnus's girls, then. Thought you might be." The Magistrate smiled cruelly. "Marrying a Muggleborn, are you? Old Cygnus will love that. You in a family way, too?"

"No, sir." Andromeda glanced nervously at Ted. "We want to be married before… before…"

"Before we worry about children," finished Ted. "We haven't consummated it yet, we're virgins!"

Andromeda's cheeks blushed bright red.

"Virgins. Of course," said the magistrate, clearly not believing. "Let's get you signed in. You've brought your own witnesses?"

"No," said Ted. "They said the Ministry could supply them?"

"If you'd prefer."

"We would," said Ted. "We've got no one else. Everyone's against us. It's us against the world!"

"Don't," said Andromeda softly. "Don't talk like that."

"It's the truth," said Ted. "No parents, no sisters, no friends. No one's speaking to us. We're alone."

"Stop, please," whispered Andromeda. "I can't think about… that. Not now."

"Sure you're not in expecting?" asked the magistrate. "Look like you might be sick."

"I'm not expecting," she insisted, one hand pressed to her belly as if drawing attention to her trim figure would prove it.

"Fine. Wait there." The magistrate gestured toward a couple of chairs near the door. "We'll have the official paperwork drawn up, you'll sign, and we'll get you married and on your way." He smirked. "Wish I could see old Cygnus's face when he finds out his 'virgin' daughter's run off with a Mudblood."

Half an hour later, Andromeda and Ted were standing up together, holding hands, saying vows. An hour after that, they were giving nearly all of their savings to an innkeeper. And not twenty minutes after that, she was on her back, kissing him, and pretending she'd never been with a boy before.

He was clumsy, but gentle, and enthusiastic, though awkward. Later, once he was asleep, she locked herself in the bathroom.

And cried.

She wanted to be married. She wanted to marry him. It was the right thing. It saved her from an arranged marriage, and she truly did love him. He treated her with kindness, he genuinely adored her, and he listened to her, most of the time. More than anyone did at home, anyway. But it still hurt.

She wiped her tears and tried to remind herself why she'd pushed for marriage in the first place, has it has been her, not him, who wanted to rush things. She, not he, was terrified of what would happen once she came of age.

She didn't want to be like Bellatrix.

Emotionless sex with random men and an illegal abortion followed by an arranged marriage to a Pureblood man she'd never love.

The thought filled her with mind-numbing fear.

At her sister's wedding, the vows included a promise from Bellatrix to obey her husband. Andromeda couldn't help but notice that Rodolphus wasn't asked to vow obedience to his wife in turn.

Andromeda had requested that bit be taken out before she promised to love and honor Ted until death. Though whether the vows meant his death or hers, she wasn't sure.

There was a quiet knock at the door. She splashed water on her face and forced a shaky smile before opening it.

"Yes?"

"You're crying," said Ted. He pulled her to him. "Do you regret…?"

"No." She cradled his face and kissed him. "No, I just… I wish my mother had been there. I wish my father… or my sisters… any of them… I wish…"

"You know they don't approve of us. None of them."

"I know, Ted. But I wish… I wish… our families… I wish our families…"

"I know." He hugged her again, this time unwilling to let go. "We'll make our own family, Dromeda. We'll have children – four, maybe? Five, even. And be happy."

"Or six." Andromeda smiled. "I could give you six children, three girls and three boys, and they'll all be the best of friends and never lonely."

"I'll get a good job to provide for all of you. We'll spoil them."

"With love!" clarified Andromeda. "Not with toys or clothes. My parents gave us all the material things we could have ever needed, but…"

"But we'll give ours even better. The more important things."

Ted returned to Hogwarts for his seventh year, while Andromeda worked at the inn at which she lived, where he spent the Christmas and Easter holidays.

Money ran out quickly.

And though she'd never tell Ted, it wasn't long before she was providing a certain service to men who came into the inn looking for more than just a drink. She never went to bed with any of them, but for a few coins she'd do for them what she'd done for the Slytherin boys at Hogwarts, the ones from whom she'd collected galleons in order to pay for treatment after contracting that nasty illness she never spoke of.

It was early February, 1971, the first time one insisted he needed more than a blow. They were in an alley, the one behind the inn. The ground was cold from a recent frost, her knees were wet and sore, and he was easily three times her size and twice her age.

"I need a shag," he said, pulling her away from him by her hair.

She scrambled to her feet.

"I don't do that." She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and held out a hand. "I told you up front what I'd do. You owe me twelve sickles."

Sometimes they'd take pity on her and hand over a galleon. Not him.

"Give you twice that for a quick fuck." He grabbed her by the hair again and pulled her toward the wall, pinning her there. She glanced toward the end of the alley. No one ever looked down here, but if she screamed, someone might hear. Someone might come.

"Give us a kiss, now." He tried to put his lips on hers. She turned her head. She never kissed anyone, save for Ted. And she'd never lay down or open her legs for anyone else, either.

"Don't be frigid." He groped her breast. She squirmed. She'd left her wand inside, behind the bar. A mistake she'd not make again.

"I said I don't do that!" she insisted, trying to push him away. "I have a husband!"

"A whore with a husband?"

"I'm not a whore!"

He laughed. His mouth again came toward her.

She pushed him.

He slapped her.

"Ow!"

This time, when he tried to kiss her, when he shoved his hand roughly between her legs, she fought like mad, smacking and scratching him, but it was when she bit his cheek that he finally backed away, hand to his face.

"Bitch!"

"You… you can't touch me like that!"

"I can touch you however I like!"

"No! I… you… I didn't…"

"You're lucky I don't summon an Auror! That's assault, biting me like that."

"You… but you…" Panic rose in her throat. If he summoned a Auror, Ted was sure to find out. And the matron and barkeep who owned the inn. They'd be out on the street. Ted might even leave her. He could finish school, go back home to his parents, and never look back. And what did she have?

Her parents would never take her back. Not now.

Especially not if this got out.

They already considered her dirty, sullied. She'd be destitute. Lost.

Forever.

The man stalked toward the street.

"Wait!" she cried.

He turned back, smirking.

"Change your mind?"

"No, you owe me! You owe me for the…" Her eyes darted down toward his crotch. "For that! Twelve sickles!"

"If you really needed money, you'd work for it." His hand went to his cheek. "Twelve sickles is the price for my silence. I won't press charges against you for the bite, and you won't take a single sickle from me for the blow. Fair?"

"But…" Her heavy-lidded dark eyes welled with tears. "But I need that money! I'm hungry."

"Not my problem."

And with that, he was gone.

"But I'm hungry," she whispered again, to no one.

Working in the inn for room and board was something, and it came with one 'meal' a day each day she worked – usually leftovers from whatever the owners had eaten the night before, or sometimes a couple of sandwiches or day old scones with jam – but it wasn't enough to stave off the starvation pains.

She reached into her coat pocket for the Chocolate Frog Ted had given her during his February Hogsmeade trip, but instead she found Bella's last letter. The letters from her sister had started relatively lovingly, begging her to come home, promising she'd be accepted back. This last one was not like that.

Where was the Frog? Had she eaten it already? Or was it upstairs, in her room? She desperately hoped it was the latter.

For not the first time, she questioned whether she'd been an idiot to run off and get married moments after turning seventeen, to elope with a Muggleborn to avoid the comfortable but loveless arranged marriage her parents had planned.

A marriage to an older man with a known cruel streak.

With whom she'd be stuck indefinitely.

No, she'd done the right thing. It was difficult, but it would get better. She'd just have to suffer in the interim. And she couldn't let Ted find out what she'd been up to.

Without Ted, she'd have nothing. And no one. With him, there was hope.

Two months later, Ted was less than three months away from the end of his seventh year, and the last of their savings were gone, and while she never again saw the man she bit, she did find herself doing exactly what she said she wouldn't for a demanding but wealthy Death Eater named Douglas MacNair. As she had in the Astronomy Tower with Theodore Nott, she stared at the ceiling and tried not to feel, patiently waiting for him to be done.

Eight weeks after the first time with MacNair, she was eagerly awaiting Ted's return with the belief it would mean better days ahead. He'd be fully educated, he'd be working, they'd find their own place, and no one would ever have to know what had happened during her year living alone above the pub.

But today? Today she was taking her meagre savings to a Muggle Healer called "doctor" who would take away the most pressing of her current problems.

She was eighteen years old, married one year, and pregnant by a man who was not her husband. She'd wanted to avoid the same fate her sister Bellatrix had suffered, but she'd gotten herself in the exact same position… and without Mother and Father's money to fix it.

When Ted came home a fortnight later, he was happy to see her, proud of how he'd done on final exams, and full of assurance that everything would be wonderful from here on out. They had enough money scraped together to move, again finding a place in an inn above a pub where she could work in exchange for room and board while he was off at his own job.

Less than two years after that, she birthed their daughter, a healthy, beautiful girl. Andromeda named her Nymphadora, and vowed to be a better mother than her own had been, the sort of mum a child deserves.

She would sit up at night, cradling sleeping Nymphadora, just staring at her, and making promises.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you," she whispered to the purple-haired infant. "You'll never know hunger. I'll never make you feel like less, I'll never turn my back on you, I'll never let you know what it feels like to be unloved."

She also vowed to never again be unfaithful to Ted, not even if they were starving and desperate, not under any circumstances.

She would be the perfect wife and the perfect mother.

And no one would ever suspect she'd ever been anything but.

 **PRESENT**

 **THE NIGHT BEFORE THE WEDDING**

"Kingsley?" Andromeda shook him gently. He mumbled and twitched. "Kingsley, wake up."

"Hmm."

"Wake up, please, Kingsley."

"Whuh? Whuzzit? Ah-drahma…"

"Look at me." She gently stroked his cheek. "Look at me, please."

"No."

"Please! Kingsley, open your eyes, please. Look at me, Kingsley, please, open your eyes."

He opened his eyes.

"Whuh?"

"I can't marry you with secrets. We shouldn't have any more secrets."

"Yes," he mumbled. "Good. No secrets." His eyes closed again.

"Listen! Kingsley, listen, please. I need you to know."

"Know what?" He reopened his eyes, which this time focused and met hers. "Baby, what is it?"

She reclined into her back and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. "I had _two_ abortions, not just the one."

"I know."

"I only told you about the one."

"You told me there was a second."

"The second was the first. I mean, the one I told you about, it was the second."

"You don't have to tell me any-"

"I _do_ have to. I _want_ to. I can't marry you tomorrow without you knowing. I don't want any more secrets. I can't keep secrets from you. And I don't want you having secrets from me. Do you have secrets from me?"

"You mean like that time I shagged your sister?"

"What?" Her eyes widened and her palm pressed hard against the center of his chest. "The time you what?"

"Oh, sorry, no, that was a dream. Good dream, though."

"Which sister?" asked Andromeda.

"Narcissa," he answered. "She wore the dog collar."

She rolled her eyes. "Fuck you."

He smirked. "Love you too."

"Did you really? Dream about Narcissa?"

"No, but since you're always confessing something or other, I thought it might bring you some relief if I did the same."

"It brings me no relief it it's a lie."

"No more lies, then." He kissed her cheek. "Let's sleep now. We can discuss your deep dark secrets late-"

"No! We _have_ to talk about it now! I can't marry you if I'm keeping things. Please!"

He sighed. Then he flung one leg over hers, slipped an arm around her waist, and nuzzled against her neck.

"Tell me, then."

"Ted and I had been married less than a year…" She got through the whole sordid story without crying, and when it ended, he simply continued to hold her.

"Is that all?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

"You're not repulsed?"

"Not by you, never." He kissed her neck. "Though I am sorry you went through that. All of it. You were just a girl. Like our Dorcas."

She couldn't help smiling slightly at 'our' Dorcas, but she wasn't done talking. He had to hear more.

"I was lying to Ted before we married and I continued lying to him throughout our entire marriage. I don't want that this time. I don't want-"

"I know you have secrets and I know you'll reveal them when you're ready."

"That's it. That's the last one. Last one I can think of. I promise. And I promise it won't be that way with you, the way it was with Ted. That's why I had to tell you. No secrets, no lies. I promise."

"You know what I promise?" He pressed his lips to her cheek. "I promise you'll never be hungry with me, Andromeda. If you need anything, ever, you tell me, and I'll make certain you get it. Or get help, if that's what you need. It won't be like it was last year. I won't look away, or pretend I don't see what's happening. Never again."

"I had to tell you."

"Thank you for telling me." He closed his eyes. "Can you sleep now?"

"I don't know." She closed her eyes, too, but after a few moments opened them again. "No, I can't. Are you sure about this?"

"About…?"

"Marrying me."

"Andromeda, I've told you-"

"Kingsley!" His arm was still around her, so she rubbed her fingertips up and down it, and stared again up at the ceiling. "I don't ever want to do it again."

"Get married?" His eyes flew open, he was wide awake now, and his brow furrowed. "You don't want to mar-"

"No! I _do_ want to get married. I don't want to… I don't… I…"

"What?"

"I… won't be with other men. That's all I meant. Just you."

"Oh. Good. I don't want you to be with other men, either." This time he kissed her shoulder. "Other women are fine, though, aren't they?"

"For you or for me?"

He chuckled. "For you. For us. To share. On occasion. My birthday, for example. Our anniversary. The week of the World Cup. Boxing Day. Tuesdays and Thursdays. Whenever it's convenient."

Andromeda snickered. "We'll see."

"We'll see?" he whined like Teddy. "That means no."

She laughed. He did, too.

"You're an awful, dirty old man, Minister."

"And you're the madwoman willing to marry me."

"In a few hours. Then off to our honeymoon."

"Yes."

"Our honeymoon in… where?"

"You'll find out when we get there." He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him. She rested her head on his chest, practically purring as he stroked her hair. "Are there any other secrets we should share before the wedding? To be on the safe side?"

"I hope not." She slipped her hand up the front of his sleepshirt, resting it over his heart.

"I might have a few. Let me think. Did I tell you about the time I stole from Honeydukes? I was nine. Took four Ice Mice, hid them in the pockets of my robe. My mother caught me when I tried to eat one in my bedroom that afternoon. She was pregnant at the time, but she spanked me like a toddler, then apparated us back to Hogsmeade, forcing me to confess to the shopkeeper. I was shaking like a leaf. He took back the three unopened ones and made me work off the one I ate. I had to sweep the floors and clean the glass cabinets – obviously without magic – until closing, while wearing the word THIEF on my back. Never swiped from a store again. And stayed away from Honeydukes until I was a Third Year."

"I'm so glad your life of crime was short-lived."

"Fourth year, McGonagall caught a group of us playing spin-the-bottle in an unused classroom on the third floor. She walked in when I had my tongue down the throat of a blonde Hufflepuff named Penny. Sent a letter home to my parents. My father found it amusing but Mum was furious and embarrassed. Sent me a Howler that arrived two days later during breakfast. Then I was the one furious and embarrassed. She called me a 'miscreant.' I had to look it up in the dictionary."

Andromeda snuggled closer.

"Anything else, you depraved man?"

"Yes." He sighed. "I had something in the early nineties that needed clearing up."

"What, exactly?"

"Chlamydia, the Healer called it. Not usually seen in those of us without Muggle blood, which means I probably contracted it from one. The result of 'unprotected sex,' the Healer said. I've been much more careful since." He cleared his throat. "Mostly."

"Save for the first time we were together… and those four nights with Hestia."

"Save for those. And when I was with Hestia, when we lived together and she was on the potion. But I've never contracted anything again."

"A relief for me."

"For me, too, obviously."

"I don't know about other women, Kingsley." Andromeda gently scratched her nails through his soft chest hair. "That may have been a one-off. I enjoyed it, I did, but I'm too jealous. You'll have to settle for inappropriate dreams about my sister."

"You could wear the dog collar every now and again."

"I could do that." She smiled. "Should I ask Cissy to bring it with here with her tomorrow? She can slip it in my suitcase so I have it when we're in… where was it?"

"Nice attempt, but you're better at solving a mystery in a board game than you are at real life investigation."

She smiled. That was true enough.

"Do you think we'll be happy, Kingsley? Married?"

"Yes." He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Neither of us is perfect, Andromeda. We both know that."

"Everyone knows that."

"But there's no question we love each other, and we're good together. We compliment each other. We enjoy being together. And half of my family likes you – that's saying a lot."

"I only have four living blood relatives and they all adore you."

"I don't know that Draco _adores_ me."

"He does. Teddy does. Cissy does. Hope does. And I do."

"And I adore you."

Their lips met in a soft kiss.

"I'll try to sleep now." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't ever be sorry for waking me."

"Kingsley? Ask me again to marry you. Just once more."

"Andromeda, will you marry me?"

She smiled, snuggling up against him.

"Absolutely."

 **20 FEBRUARY 2004**

 **THE PREVIOUS FRIDAY**

"Mum, Dad, this is Andromeda. Andromeda, my parents, Kingsley and Mercy Shacklebolt."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Andromeda, putting out her hand. Kingsley's father shook it, but his mother looked her over discerningly, and kept her hands clutched to the handle of her overnight bag.

Pleased to meet you," said Kingsley's father.

"You may call us Mr. and Mrs. Shacklebolt," said Kingsley's mother. She glanced at her husband. "It's… proper."

"Kings and Mercy is fine," said Kingsley's father cheerfully. "That's what our friends call us."

"She's not a friend!" hissed Mrs. Shacklebolt. "We don't know her at all!"

"By the end of the week, we will," said Mr. Shacklebolt. "Where should we leave our bags?"

"I have a Ministry house-elf ready to take them to the official residence." Kingsley snapped his fingers. A small, smiling house-elf apparated into the room. She bowed deeply and clasped her tiny hands together.

"Bring these to the master bedroom, please. It's already been set up for Mr. and Mrs. Shacklebolt." Kingsley handed the bags over to the elf, who nodded again, and disapparated with a snap.

"We're having dinner out tonight, as I wrote you," said Kingsley. "But I thought we'd have starters here."

"You'll show us your home?" asked Mr. Shacklebolt.

"Certainly!"

"It's not much," said Andromeda apologetically.

"It's exactly what we need," said Kingsley. He led them on a quick tour, first the upstairs, then back down. They ended in the sitting room.

"I'll get the hors d'oeuvres," said Andromeda, as the Shacklebolts settled on the couch. Kingsley took the Healer's usual chair.

"Can't a house elf do that?" asked Mrs. Shacklebolt.

"We don't have any," said Kingsley. "Not here, at home. Don't need any."

"How does the cooking and cleaning get done?" asked Mrs. Shacklebolt. "Should we have brought one of ours? We could have gifted you-"

"There are Ministry residence house elves who will be looking after you there," said Kingsley. He nodded at Andromeda, who was hovering by the doorway. She bustled out toward the kitchen, but paused in the hall to listen.

"How do you live like this, Kingsley?" asked his mother. "No one to cook or clean for you, no one to-"

"Andromeda is an excellent cook, better than any house elf, and she enjoys cleaning. It relaxes her."

"She must be very relaxed, then," said Mr. Shacklebolt pleasantly. "Not a speck of dust anywhere, nor anything out of place!"

"She's… relaxed enough," said Kingsley, sounding uncomfortable for the first time since his parents arrived. "Mum, please. Be kind to her."

"When am I unkind? Have I been unkind?"

"Not yet," said Kingsley. "But I know-"

"I've not said one word about what the papers have said about her, have I? You asked me to bite my tongue and I have."

"She's quite pretty," said Mr. Shacklebolt, and Andromeda, though feeling like she might cry, almost smiled.

"Pale, isn't she?" asked Mrs. Shacklebolt. "But then, you've always gravitated toward… you know."

"White women," said Kingsley. "I know, you've told me."

(Andromeda could imagine him rolling his eyes.)

"She's got a nice arse for a white woman," said Mr. Shacklebolt. Andromeda put her hand up to her mouth and gasped, but her fiancé laughed right out loud.

"Looks good naked, too," he said. Now his father laughed.

" _Really_ , Kingsley!" said Mrs. Shacklebolt, though Andromeda wasn't sure whether she was chastising her husband or her son.

"Relax, Mercy, you know we're teasing," said Mr. Shacklebolt. "You're too uptight. You were making that poor woman nervous. Didn't you see how her hands were shaking?"

Andromeda clasped her hands together. They had indeed been shaking, though she'd hoped no one had noticed.

"She's not usually so… skittish," said Kingsley. "Though she's not as self-confident as she used to be… with all that's happened… she's the sort who knows how to hold her own. But yes, since Dad brought it up, you're making her anxious."

"Me?" asked his mother. "Impossible."

"It's true. She doesn't even need you to like her, Mum. But we'd both be grateful if you didn't hate her."

"I don't _hate_ her!" said Mrs. Shacklebolt, sounding insulted. "I don't know her, how can I hate her? I only want what's best for you, my only son. Is that a problem?"

"She's what's best for me."

Andromeda smiled and started again toward the kitchen, but the next words halted her.

"I remember her sister, Bellatrix," said Mr. Shacklebolt. "You may not recall, you were too small, but Cygnus Black and I belonged to a small gentlemen's club. All members were of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, by invitation only. I'm ashamed to say most became – or already were – Death Eaters, though we didn't allow talk of politics to infiltrate the group. We also generally didn't allow outsiders, especially not women or children, but when some of us would meet at their cottage house for cards or chess, Cygnus would invite Bellatrix in to watch. She'd use his wand to light the men's cigars or cigarettes. He delighted in showing off her magical abilities at a young age, and he'd often send her over to the bar to refill the drinks, saying she was more trustworthy than the house-elves – we didn't want them overhearing conversation any more than we did our wives… no offense, dear."

"Hmph," said his wife.

"How old was she, then?" asked Kingsley.

"Oh, I don't know. Six? Seven? I wasn't surprised to learn a decade or so later that she was becoming a Death Eater, following in Daddy's footsteps. But I refused, as you know, and once you were in school, we took your sister and left for Nigeria. We were confident you would be safe with Dumbledore."

"I know all that," said Kingsley.

"I didn't understand Cygnus, wanting his daughter mixed up in all that. Too dangerous. No place for a woman." He sighed. "No place for any of us."

"No place for any of us," echoed Mrs. Shacklebolt. "I have no stomach for war. Merlin, how I worried when you decided to become an Auror. I still worry. I'll never not worry."

"I know, Mum."

"Your fiancée looks a bit like her, like her sister, from the pictures," said Mr. Shacklebolt.

(Andromeda bit her lip.)

"I know what she looks like," said Kingsley curtly. "But-"

His father cut him off. "But even when Bella was small, there was something… wrong… in her eyes. A harshness. A cruelty. I'll never forget, she ratted out MacNair once, for cheating, and when he was punished by a severe burn to the hand – as was our custom – she looked positively aglow. Delighted. It was unnerving."

"Yes, well…" started Kingsley, but again his father cut him off.

"I realize we've just met, of course, but your Andromeda? Her eyes aren't like that. In the photographs, the ones from The Quibbler you sent us, I thought they looked rather similar. In person, I don't."

"I agree," said Mrs. Shacklebolt. "She's softer than the mad one."

"How much about her… have you read?" asked Kingsley.

"We read the Prophet, of course," said Mrs. Shacklebolt. "And you're the one who sent us the Quibbler."

"The Prophet has an agenda," said Kingsley.

"We know, son," said his father. "Alright?"

"No." Kingsley cleared his throat and said quietly, "I didn't realize you'd played cards with Cygnus Black."

"Yes, for years. You knew members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight-"

"That bloody distinction has never done a damn bit of good," said Kingsley. "I appreciate that it isn't common knowledge, your association with him. Given my position, I don't think it would be… Let's just say, I've had quite enough in terms of doubt and scandal over the last year, and don't need anything to add to it."

"You know, Kingsley? As much as we… I realize…" Mrs. Shacklebolt cleared her throat. "I know you feel as though we aren't fair to you, that we expect too much and praise too little, but we _are_ proud. You frustrate us, I won't lie to you, but in many way, you're a far better man than we raised you to be."

"Yes," said Mr. Shacklebolt. "And it appears your Andromeda is a better person than she was raised to be too."

"Unquestionably," said Kingsley.

Andromeda, feeling she'd stalled long enough, hurried into the kitchen. She didn't need to hear more, not right now.

She retrieved the tray of hors d'oeuvres, which included four martini-style glasses of cocktail sauce with shrimp resting on the rim, a dozen puffy cheddar gougères, and eight small anchovy and onion tarts, all of which Kingsley assured her his parents would enjoy, and hurried back into the kitchen, with a pitcher of fruit-infused water and glasses floating behind her.

"We thought you'd gotten lost!" said Mr. Shacklebolt good-naturedly, standing to take the tray from her.

Kingsley collected the glasses and began pouring water.

The three Shacklebolts sat.

Andromeda stood.

"Come here," said Kingsley, pulling her to sit on his knees.

"No!" She wriggled away, scandalized. "Absolutely not!"

"We're not teenagers," said Kingsley, smiling teasingly. "My parents know we _sit_ together. I think they might suspect we do more than sit, too."

Mr. Shacklebolt chortled, but Mrs. Shacklebolt huffed and said, " _Must you,_ Kingsley?"

Andromeda sighed, pointed her wand at one of Teddy's dollhouse chairs, transfigured it to full-sized, then sat.

"Is that your daughter?" asked Mrs. Shacklebolt, pointing up at one of the pictures of Nymphadora on the mantle.

"Yes," said Andromeda. "She was an Auror. I've been raising her son since the war."

"Oh, yes, we've heard all about Teddy," said Mr. Shacklebolt. "Kingsley rarely writes, but when he does, he makes sure we know what a bright and entertaining boy you've got here. I'm impressed he's doing so well at Quidditch, uncoordinated as he is. Never met a Metamorph before. Rare creatures, aren't they?"

"Rare, yes," said Andromeda, but she bristled at the word 'creatures.'

"Kingsley says the boy's the nearest he'll ever get to having a son," said Mrs. Shacklebolt, seemingly disapproving of this. "Of course, now he has a daughter, doesn't he? A nameless, bastard daughter he's only met twice." Mrs. Shacklebolt sighed. "Better than no heir at all, I suppose."

'I'm sorry,' Kingsley mouthed to Andromeda. She shrugged.

"Speaking of Quidditch…" said Mr. Shacklebolt. "How's your youth team, Kingsley?"

"Excellent! They're learning, getting better with each practice and match. You'll come tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"This is delicious!" said Mrs. Shacklebolt, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She held a half-eaten cheese puff pastry in her other hand. "Merlin, it's better than the ones they used to serve at the Dover!"

"It's nothing," said Andromeda.

"I told you she could cook," said Kingsley. He looked at her, almost sharply. "It's not _nothing_."

"You must have told her how I feel about anchovies," said Mr. Shacklebolt, piling three onto his small plate. "They're my favorites. The wife hates them."

"Do you?" Andromeda instantly felt on edge again. How had Kingsley let her prepare something his mother hated?

"I do _not_ hate them," said Mrs. Shacklebolt. "In an crudité, they are fine. It's on pizza I find revolting." She shuddered. "He has the house elves make pizza at least once per week because his diet is terrible and there are no pizza places anywhere near us, and every week he asks for extra anch-"

"Plain cheese, she likes!" said Mr. Shacklebolt. "Mozzerella, marinara, and basil. Calls it 'classic.' Dull as dishwater."

"Says a man who has never in his life come into contact with _dishwater_."

Kingsley chuckled. "Mum, Dad. Stop. You're scaring Andromeda."

"No, I'm-"

"Gratifying to hear you calling us Mum and Dad again," said Mrs. Shacklebolt. She took a long, slow sip of strawberry-lemon-mint water. "We've been Mother and Father for such a long time…"

"Mother's greatest talent is her ability to be passive aggressive even when a situation does not even remotely warrant it," said Kingsley, reaching for his shrimp cocktail glass.

"Oh?" asked Andromeda, one eyebrow raised. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to learn you _inherited_ that particular trait."

There was a moment's silence, then Mr. Shacklebolt positively guffawed.

"Oh, I do like her, Kingsley!" he said, holding up a napkin to keep from spraying pastry crumbs across the couch.

Kingsley chuckled. "Fair enough, woman."

"Do not allow him call you 'woman,'" said Mrs. Shacklebolt scoldingly, turning her sights on Andromeda. "It's disrespectful."

"I don't mind it," said Andromeda.

"You ought to!" snapped Mrs. Shacklebolt. "Kingsley, her mother gave her a name, and it wasn't 'woman.' I don't want to hear that again, understand?"

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Someday I'll be a grown man and you won't be able to tell me what to do anymore!"

"Someday soon, we hope," said Mrs. Shacklebolt.

Andromeda hid a smile. While she wasn't quite sure whether the woman liked her, Mrs. Shacklebolt – Mercy – wasn't at all as she'd imagined. And Kingsley's father seemed a lot like him, despite having been one of her father's former friends.

Perhaps this week wouldn't be so bad.

 **PRESENT**

 **THE MORNING OF THE WEDDING**

Andromeda woke first, almost in panic, even though the alarm had not yet gone off. She hopped up.

"We're getting married in a few hours and I am not ready!"

"Woman?" He caught her wrist. "Get back in bed."

"We are getting married in a few-"

"Get back in bed."

"There's no time! We're-"

"Bed." He pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be pulled. He pressed his lips to her inner wrist. "We have an hour before we have to be up. How should we spend it?" He moved her hand under the blankets, down to his groin. "Oh, look at that. I might be 'up' already."

"No."

"Please? One last fuck as an unmarried man?"

"I hate you," she said dryly. "Let go of my hand."

"I can be quick."

"You usually are."

"Ow." He released her wrist. "If _that_ wasn't a Bludger to the groin."

She giggled. "Fine. But if you want to fuck, we'll have to do it in the shower so I can wash my hair at the same time. Multi-tasking is imperative today, no time for dawdling. Narcissa will be over at nine sharp."

"It's only seven-thirty now!"

"Best hurry, then." She kissed his cheek, pulled off her nightgown, and reached for her dressing gown, which she tied around her waist loosely enough to show off her chest a bit.

"Very well." He waited in bed until he heard the shower going full-blast, then pulled himself up and shuffled into the loo. After relieving himself, he washed his hands with soap in the sink as she always demanded, then popped his head in the shower.

"Is this a good time?"

"As good as any." She stepped back to let him step in. He was already ready… but she was not.

"I need all of this shampoo rinsed out. Help?"

"Does it make me sound like less of a man to admit I enjoy washing your hair?"

"Not to me."

He ran his hands through the curls, separating them carefully, and rinsing the shampoo out.

"Do you have any regrets?" asked Andromeda.

"In life? Yes, plenty. About marrying you? No, none."

"What in life? What do you regret?"

"Oh. Plenty." He sighed. "Where to start? I regret not insisting my girlfriend and son come to live with me when we knew it was a possibility her parents were targets. I regret not being able to save Moody that night we moved Potter – I should have insisted we not use Mundungus – and I regret all the lives lost in the Battle at Hogwarts, which may have been prevented had we been better prepared. I regret the hasty trials and executions that followed the war. I regret the way I behaved after you turned down my first proposal. I regret that I didn't see how much you needed help and I regret letting Potter take Teddy without putting up a better fight; trusting the system was a mistake. I regret impregnating Hestia, though in the two times I've seen the baby I've grown rather attached. And I regret inviting my sister to our wedding."

"Oh, no, do you?"

"She's impossible and has always been." He kissed her nose. "You?"

"I don't know. If I regret anything, that means I'd change it, and if I changed things, I might not be where I am now. Where we are now. If I didn't overdose last year, I wouldn't have gone to the facility. If I didn't go to the facility, I might not be alive right now. Going back farther, if I didn't marry Ted, I wouldn't have had Nymphadora. I might have ended up a Death Eater's wife. I might still have lost my child, not to my sister, but while she was fighting beside my sister. My child might have been killed by an Auror. I might not be a grandmother."

"You can't know that."

"I know if I hadn't left my family, I wouldn't be where I am now. Sleeping with the Minister for Magic." She soaped up a flannel and began washing his chest. "Honestly? More than anything, I regret hurting you and Teddy. You're the two most important people in my life and I'd do anything for either of you."

She moved to be flush against him. He put his arms around her.

"And I suppose I regret sleeping with Artemisia Bonham's husband some twenty-five years ago… mostly because she found out. That's all." She smiled. "To hell with anyone else I've hurt."

"You're charming."

"I know."

They were just starting to progress beyond washing each other when the door cracked open.

"Nana? You in here?"

"Teddy!" Andromeda grabbed for her dressing gown on the hook outside the shower, threw it on, and went to the door. She knelt and faced the boy, whose straight hair was shoulder-length and bright green. He was dressed in jeans, a jumper, and trainers. She had no idea what he'd be wearing later – Kingsley insisted it was none of her business what the men would be wearing, just as he wasn't allowed to see her dress.

"What are you doing here, my little love? It's early!"

"Hermione says 'it is impetitive your grandmother eat a healthy breakfast today' and she didn't want you have to cook it. And she knows Auntie can't cook, either."

"Imperative?" asked Andromeda.

Teddy nodded.

"Is she cooking now?"

He nodded again.

"Teddy? Why do you keep glancing over your shoulder?"

"Hermione makes me eat healthy every morning." He glanced toward the hall once more, then dropped his voice. "It's awful, Nana. Oat Bran and fruit and grilled tomatoes and almonds and soft-boiled egg and plain Greek yogurt and that's it, that's all the choices! No chocolate cereal or sausages like at Grimmauld Place, no streaky bacon or black pudding like Auntie Cissy's, and no fried eggs or beans or butter toast like at home. Hermione says we're vegetarians now!" His eyes widened with panic as he reached out to grab his grandmother's shoulders. "Do you know what that means?! I haven't had chicken in _months_!"

"You haven't been at Malfoy Manor for months, Teddy. It's been a fortnight."

" _It_ _feels like_ _months_! I'm _starving_! And she doesn't allow sweets! She says we're getting healthy for summer and keeping our teeth from rotting because her mum said I have catt-a-dees!"

"Cavities?"

"Yes! Dr. Granger had to fix them! It hurted! One got pulled out, look!" He opened his mouth to show her a space where one of his baby teeth had been. "Nana?" Why do I need to be healthy for summer? _I need Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice!_ Will there be cake after the wedding?"

"Oh, Teddy!" Andromeda chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Yes, there will be cake."

"Oh, good." He leaned against the doorjamb as if so relieved by this news he could hardly stand. "Nana, Hermione says eating animals makes them sad so we shouldn't but I don't care. I don't care if chickens are sad, Nana! I want to eat chicken! Am I mean?"

"You're not mean, my little love. Don't worry. Kingsley and I are working on bringing you home, and when we do, I'll feed you butter chicken and Chocolate Frogs. I promise."

"No Oat Bran."

"No Oat Bran."

"And no Greek yogurt, either!"

"No Greek yogurt."

"Nana?" Teddy leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Can Draco come for breakfast, when I'm home again? He doesn't like Greek yogurt either. He says he…" Teddy's eyes darted once more toward the hall. "He misses streaky bacon!"

"Of course Draco can come, any time." She pinched the back of his thigh. "You are starting to lose your baby fat. Can't have that. Tell you what? If you go into my bedroom now, and open Kingsley's bedside cabinet, you will find a Chocolate Frog. We've been saving it for you. I was going to give it to you later, but you can have it now. It'll be our secret."

His anxious face relaxed into a grin. "Right now?"

"Right now. But first, call down to Hermione that I'll be ready shortly. She's cooking now, you said?"

He nodded. "It smells like burning. She burns the tomatoes. How does she burn tomatoes? You never burn tomatoes."

"Some people like them burnt."

He pulled a face. "And some people like Greek yogurt."

"Oh, Teddy. Sometimes I look at you and see myself, and other times, like right now, you're the living image of your mummy." She pulled him close for a quick hug. "Hurry, go. I'll be down shortly."

He tore off toward her bedroom. She locked the bathroom door and returned to the shower, hanging her dressing gown, which was soaked from her hair, back on its hook.

"That took some time." Kingsley glanced down and shrugged apologetically.

"You started without me?"

"No, I started _with_ you. I _finished_ without you."

She laughed. "Fine. Kiss me, then help me condition my hair."

He was happy to oblige.

 **21 FEBRUARY**

 **THE PREVIOUS SATURDAY**

On Saturday morning, Kingsley rose early and headed to his Official Residence to meet his father, then the two went straight to Quidditch. Draco was kind enough to bring Teddy, and as Mrs. Shacklebolt would be occupied by a shopping trip with old friends, Andromeda intended to sleep late.

Narcissa had other plans.

"Tell me everything!"

"I'm still in bed!"

"You can stay in bed and tell me everything." Narcissa crawled under the covers with her. "What were they like?"

"They were… interesting."

She told Narcissa everything, from the conversation at home to the talks over dinner, which ranged from the mundane (weather, Quidditch, the news) to the deeply personal (his feelings about his newborn daughter, Andromeda's foray into memoir writing, the Shacklebolts' guilt about refusing to get involved in either war).

By the end, Andromeda still wasn't certain they liked her, but they seemed to respect her, and they said they were supportive of their marriage – anything to see Kingsley happy, his mother surprised them by saying – and she was feeling much better.

But tonight, she'd be meeting his sister.

And Kingsley told her to be prepared for battle.

 **PRESENT**

 **THE MORNING OF THE WEDDING**

Andromeda and Kingsley threw on jeans and jumpers, like Teddy, and headed down to the kitchen. He and Teddy would be leaving soon, along with Draco, Severus, Neville, and little Orlando, getting ready for the wedding at the Official Residence, while Andromeda stayed home with Narcissa, Hope, Dorcas, Jean, Ophelia, and Hermione. Kingsley's mother, sister, and nieces were invited to join the ladies, but declined.

"Breakfast is served!" said Hermione happily as they entered the kitchen.

"Hermione made soft-boiled eggs," said Teddy, tapping the shell of his with a spoon. "It's almost chicken."

"Don't worry," said Jean. "I did most of the cooking."

"My cooking is fine!" insisted Hermione. "Did Teddy tell you, Andromeda? We're vegetarians at Malfoy Manor now. Working our way toward veganism!"

"Yes, that's right," said Draco flatly. "And we love it."

"Stop that pouting!" said Hermione. "Eating animals is wrong, Draco. They have hearts and souls and feelings. We've discussed this! At length! And we agreed!"

"Vegetarianism is the new SPEW," explained Draco.

"And vegan cuisine certainly inspires me to 'spew,'" said Severus.

"I made the tomatoes and sausages," said Jean. "Does anyone want toast?"

"There's sausages?" Teddy's face lit up.

Soon, the entire extended family was crowded around the table, some sitting, some standing, all eating and chatting.

Kingsley stood behind Andromeda, plate in hand. She leaned back against him.

"I wanted this as a child," he murmured in her ear. "Large, loud, happy family, crowding around. Like the Weasley's. Mine was… quieter. My parents are far more relaxed now than they were when I was a boy. And you've met my sister."

"I didn't have this either," said Andromeda. "Obviously."

He slipped an arm around her waist, settling a hand on her abdomen, and kissed just below her ear.

"None of that!" said Narcissa. "You shouldn't even be seeing each other before the wedding! It's bad luck!"

"You're one to lecture on wedding etiquette," said Andromeda. "Weren't you in labor during yours?"

"Extenuating circumstances!" said Narcissa. The adults chuckled.

"What's that mean, Mummy?" asked Hope, who was sitting in her father's lap. "What's labor?"

"It's when a cow pushes a calf out it's bum," said Teddy, flipping his green hair pompously. "I readed it in a book."

"What book is he reading?" asked Severus.

"It's about farm animals, and where their babies come from," said Hermione haughtily. "Draco and I firmly believe in being up front and honest with children about that sort of thing, using proper words for our anatomy and teaching about reproduction in an age-appropriate manner."

"Yes," said Draco, greatly resembling Severus in the moment. "We _love_ having conversations about reproduction with five-year-olds."

"Kingsley?" said Teddy. "Did you know human babies come from when a mummy lets a daddy puts his _you-know-what_ in her _you-know-where_ and then a baby grows in her tummy until it falls out her bottom?" Teddy stuck out his tongue. "It's _disgusting_."

"So close, Teddy," said Kingsley.

"Also," said Teddy, "Bollocks are really called _testicles_."

"Tentacles?" asked Hope. Severus covered her ears.

"No, testicles!" corrected Teddy loudly. "That's where the sperm grows."

"Hermione Jean!" exclaimed Jean, chortling with surprise and bouncing Ophelia lightly in her lap. "That is _far too much_ _information_ for the boy!"

"I agree," said Andromeda.

"I don't think so," said Neville. "My gran was always honest with me about all that, and it wasn't too much information for me."

"Well, it's too much information for _me_ ," said Severus, hands still over Hope's ears.

"I agree," said Kingsley. "I didn't need to know that until I was thirty."

"I don't understand," Dorcas whispered to Neville. "What's sperm?"

"Hermione!" exclaimed Jean again. "Look what you've started!"

"He asked!" said Hermione. "Should I have told him what you told me, then? 'When a mummy and daddy love each other very much, the daddy uses his watering can to make a flower blossom in her garden…' Botany made me blush for years! Or should we tell him what Narcissa told Draco? That 'hugging' causes babies? Because _that_ won't confuse him? We had the conversation, for the record, because little Maddie Bones-Macey kissed him on the cheek after Quidditch last week and he came home afraid she'd have a baby like Hestia!"

Teddy's face went so red it clashed with the maroon of his jumper. He covered his eyes with his hands.

"She kissed you?" asked Andromeda. "The little trollop."

Kingsley laughed.

"My mother used to 'hug' my father all over Malfoy Manor," said Draco with a shudder. "If that's what made babies, I'd have more siblings than a Weasley."

"Now is not the time to discuss… that sort of thing!" Narcissa huffed. "Everyone, finish eating. Butters will manage the dishes while we're dressing."

"Oh, no!" said Hermione. "That poor old elf, you're still putting her to work? No, no. I'll do the dishes."

"Fine," said Narcissa. "I don't care who does them as long as Andromeda doesn't."

Soon enough, the men had gone, the dishes were done, all talk of reproduction had ceased, and the women and girls were getting ready.

"You look beautiful, Dorcas," said Andromeda to the young girl. Andromeda was seated on a transfigured stool, having her hair done by Narcissa with assistance from Hermione and Sleakeazy's Hair Potion, and Dorcas was twirling in the sitting room in front of her. Her dress was dark rose and knee length, with a bit of flair below the waist, with little cap sleeves and a modest bit of revealed cleavage.

"Do you think Neville will think so?"

"He already thinks so," said Hermione. "But yes, he'll love it."

Jean was doing her older daughter's hair, taming the bushy curls into submission. She'd already plaited Ophelia's into two long braids. Now Ophelia sat on the floor with Hope, whose hair was banana curled, and played with the dollhouse. Neither girl was in her dress yet.

As soon as everyone was made up and ready, save for Andromeda who still had to get into her gown, they headed to the Ministry where the service would take place. Narcissa stayed behind.

"I wish you'd been there for my first wedding," said Andromeda, as she took the dress bag out of the wardrobe.

"Don't get emotional. I spent too long on your makeup to have to fix it if you cry."

"I won't cry, you semi-illiterate twat muffin."

"My, my. You're snappier than an irate lobster," said Narcissa. "My bitchiest living sister."

Andromeda chuckled. "I can't believe I'm getting remarried, Cissy. I'm marrying the Minister for Magic. He knows me – he truly _knows_ me – and he wants to marry me. When he proposed the first time, and I said no, I was panicked. I was afraid if our relationship was too public, to interesting, out of the woodwork they'd come, people like Nott and-"

"I know, Meda. I know. We've talked about this. But he knows everything now, doesn't he? You said last week you didn't want any more secrets."

"Last night, I woke him and told him… I told him my last one. The last… the last burden… the last… the last thing I've been carrying around. Something I never told Ted, nor anyone else, not even Healer Smelthwick. Not you. And it was fine. It was fine!"

"Because he loves you. Also, presumably, because he's heard you give more confessions than a Catholic priest hears from his entire congregation."

"What?" Andromeda nearly dropped the dress. "How do you know…? That's an esoteric reference, Cissy! The first time you came to my house, you didn't know the word for 'car,' and now you know that a Catholic priest hears parishioners' confessions?"

"When I was in the facility, I read a book about a priest who breaks his vows by falling for a nun. It was about seventy percent gratuitous sex, but the other thirty percent included some information about church matters."

"Who gave you that book?"

"Another patient. I traded her for the one I'd brought, about a witch whose lover has infiltrated Grindelwald's inner circle, but tension grows when he brings her in and she falls for one of his soldiers. The other patient is a Muggleborn and didn't know we have our own erotica. She was relying entirely on Muggle smut! The poor girl. Not a bad book, though."

"You've come a long way since I started corrupting you, haven't you, Cissy? First that dog collar, now this."

"It was a choker."

"I don't need the details."

Andromeda used her wand to remove her clothes so to avoid mussing her hair or smudging her makeup, then stepped carefully into the gown. After Narcissa had zipped her, they face each other.

"Meda!" She clapped her hands together under her chin. "Kingsley will swoon. You're stunning."

"Am I?"

"Would you like to see?" Narcissa removed a small mirror from her handbag. "This is the full-length one from my bedroom. I can return it to regular size… if you'd like."

"You know I hate to see my reflection."

"I know. But it's your wedding day. Don't you want to… know?"

Slowly, Andromeda nodded. "Yes, I suppose. Yes, fine."

Narcissa tapped the mirror twice with her wand. It grew to normal size, freestanding. Andromeda took in her appearance.

Her recently colored hair was black and sleek at the top and front, gathered into perfectly positioned curls in the back, tendrils hanging down, not a hint of gray. Her eyeliner was black and her lips were pale rose, and she had just the right amount of rouge on her cheeks. The dress fit perfectly, just as she'd been promised by Madam Malkin, who sewed and altered it. The only obviously visible scar was the one going down her arm – Narcissa had offered to try to hide it using either makeup or magic, but Andromeda had said no to both, explaining it was part of her.

"What do you think?" asked Narcissa nervously.

"I don't look a thing like her," Andromeda answered.

"You aren't a thing like her," said Narcissa. "You've never been."

"Nymphadora and Teddy and I all have the same shaped nose. She looks like her father and he looks like her, but we have the same nose."

"It's a lovely nose."

"Thank you, Cissy. For everything."

"I owe you, Meda. You didn't have to confront that awful woman for me in the apothecary, and you didn't have to respond to my letters, and you didn't have to agree to have tea with me, but you did, and I'm where I am now because of you. Because of you and Draco and Severus. You're my family and I couldn't ask for better."

"Shut your mouth, Cissy." Andromeda blinked back tears. "If you make me cry, I'll use the Cruciatus on you and not feel at all guilty about it."

"I love you, too." Cissy reached for her hand. "Ready?"

"I think so." They started to move toward the door; they'd Floo to the Ministry from the sitting room.

"No." Andromeda stopped at the top of the stairs. "I'm not ready."

"Merlin, why?" asked Narcissa. "Please don't tell me you're having second thoughts!"

"No," said Andromeda. She laughed. "I'm not ready because I'm barefoot! My shoes are in a box under the bed."

"Oh." Narcissa laughed, too. "Accio, Andromeda's shoebox!"

 **21 FEBRUARY**

 **THE PREVIOUS SATURDAY**

Dinner out went surprisingly well on Friday night, but on Saturday, Kingsley's sister arrived.

"This is Katherine," he said, introducing her at the Official Residence before they were to head out. "Her husband, Winston, and their children: Pearl, Prudence, Patience, Priscila, and Philip."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Andromeda.

"Wish we could say the same," said Katherine. "Unfortunately, your reputation precedes you."

"Oh." Andromeda nodded. "Very well, then."

"Don't be that way, Katherine," said Kingsley. "Not only is it unfair, it's rude."

"Rude? You're set to lecture me about rudeness? You-"

"Excuse me," said Mrs. Shacklebolt. "The house elves have indicated that we may enter the dining room, now. Let's get on with the introductions there."

"Let's," said Katherine. She followed her mother toward the dining room, her haughty looking husband and bored children trailing behind.

"I apologize in advance for absolutely everything," Kingsley murmured to Andromeda. She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Kingsley. I can't imagine your younger sister is worse than my older one."

"Hardly a high bar."

Once they were seated around the table, introductions continued.

"This is my sister, Narcissa, her husband, Severus, their children, Hope and Draco, Draco's fiancée, Hermione, my grandson, Teddy, and my…" She glanced at Kingsley. "Younger daughter, Dorcas."

They sat eight on each side of the table, with Kingsley and his father at either head: Kingsley's mother, sister, brother-in-law, and their children were on one side of the table, across from Andromeda, Teddy, Hermione, Draco, Dorcas, Severus, Narcissa, and Hope.

"How old are you?" asked Teddy, pointing across the table at Philip.

"We don't allow our children to point," said Katherine, shooting Kingsley a sharp look.

Teddy, looking wounded, dropped his hand.

"He's seven," said Kingsley, looking back at his sister just as sharply.

"I'm almost six," said Teddy. "Do you like Quidditch?"

"The children generally do not speak unless spoken to," said Katherine.

"He was just spoken to, wasn't he?" snapped Kingsley.

"Well, this is off to a strong start," whispered Hermione.

"Spoken to _by an adult_ , Kingsley,' said Katherine. "The way it was when _we_ were children. I realize tradition, etiquette, and decorum mean less to you than they do to the rest of our family, but I'll thank you not to confuse my children. Especially not the girls." She glanced conspicuously at Andromeda. "We hold them to high standards."

"Your daughters are all students at Durmstrang," said Kingsley. "They're how old? Fifteen and thirteen, and the twins are nearly twelve? Somehow, I don't think dinner conversation will confuse them."

Katherine's plump merlot-colored lips thinned into a line.

"It may surprise you to learn we've become considerably more relaxed about the rules in our golden years," said Mr. Shacklebolt, smiling at his daughter. He shifted his gaze to his wife. "Isn't that right, Mercy?"

Mrs. Shacklebolt looked pained, and thanks to Legilimency, Andromeda knew why. She was torn between wanting to agree with her daughter, and wanting to support her husband.

Draco tried to save the moment.

"Durmstrang, you said? My father wanted to send me there, but Mother wanted me closer to home, at Hogwarts. I've often wondered what a different school experience might have been like. Did you go there, Winston?"

"I did," said Katherine's husband, a dark-skinned man with short black hair and a graying beard. "Eleven generations of Henry's have attended Durmstrang, but mine are the first girls. Traditionally, they'd have been educated at home. That's how it was through my father's generation, then I had no sisters so my parents didn't have to worry about it. When Pearl turned eleven, she begged to go, and we decided to allow her. Best decision we could have made. She's academically brilliant. She hopes to be a Healer-"

"But we don't see any reason for her education to continue after her seventh year is complete," said Katherine. "She doesn't need it to be a wife and mother."

There was an uncomfortable silence following this, during which Pearl stared miserably down at her empty plate.

"I can't imagine not wanting to work after school ended," said Hermione. "I don't begrudge anyone who sees marriage and motherhood as their path, but I enjoy having a career."

"Yes, you're Hermione Granger," said Katherine. "Harry Potter's right hand. What is it you do now, dear? Are you a Healer? An Auror? Or do you teach?"

"Er… no. I work for Professor Snape at his Apothecaries. Brewing, testing, ingredient gathering, selling…"

"Oh, you're a shop girl." Katherine smiled cruelly. "How… quaint."

"She's much more than a shop girl," said Severus.

"I'm sure she's an asset to you, Mr. Snape!" said Winston quickly. "It's just a surprise, isn't it? Hermione Granger, brewing potions for a living? Would have expected her to be a professor, an Unspeakable, an Auror… something of great value. I mean that with no offense! But with all of her potential, her reputation." He genuinely seemed to mean 'no offense,' but Andromeda felt the anger emanating from Draco, Narcissa, Severus and Hermione down the table.

"My daughter was an Auror," Andromeda said. "She loved it. She worked with Kingsley."

"Yes, we've read about her," said Katherine. "Killed by your own sister, wasn't she? Awful. I can't imagine being so deeply loathed by my sibling."

"Can't you?" asked Kingsley.

Katherine's mouth dropped open.

A house elf popped in then, to announce the soup course.

Dinner didn't get worse from there, but it didn't get better either. But the time it was over, Andromeda wanted to kill Kingsley's sister… as did every other member of her family.

"I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am," Kingsley said as they readied for bed that night. "I shouldn't have invited her, but Mother insisted."

"You're back to calling her Mother."

"She should have put Katherine in her place. Or my father should have. If neither of them speaks to her between now and dinner tomorrow, I'll do it."

"She hates me."

"Yes." Kingsley sighed, pulled on his pajama bottoms, and sank onto the bed. "I'm sorry. I should have better prepared you, but she promised my parents she'd be on her best behavior. She said she'd give you a chance. They all promised to give you a chance."

"They _all_ hate me!" Andromeda couldn't stop the tears, which just made her angry. "You know, I didn't used to cry like this! It's Healer Smelthwick's fault. She bloody broke me in that facility and I'm not healed yet. I'm too fucking soft."

"No!" Still sitting, he placed his hands on her hips, drew her closer, and pressed a kiss to her midsection. She stood there in her bra and half-slip, choking back tears, while he nuzzled against her.

"How could they _all_ hate me?"

"They don't! My father likes you! He told me this morning, between the Quidditch practice and our match, while we watched two of the other teams play. Mum… I don't know what she thinks, exactly. She's still holding out hope I'll marry a woman half my age, have three sons, and find a job that pays better. She likes that you're Pureblood."

"Wonderful. The one thing about myself I not only have no control over, but despise."

"She enjoyed your appetizers. She likes that you're not a career woman. She, like my sister, believes women belong in the home, and the only 'work' they should do is the philanthropic sort. I think she warmed up to you a great deal during dinner last night. But Katherine…"

"Hates me."

He moved to lay on the bed, bringing her with him. "I'm sorry. I could lie and tell you otherwise, but…"

"Don't ever lie to me."

"I'm not lying. She hates you."

"Is it because of everything that's been in the Prophet, or…?"

"That's certainly part of it. I don't know, though, why… She's always been the judgmental sort. She's ten years younger than I am, but acts like she's the elder sibling. My parents took her with them when they left for Nigeria and they didn't allow her to return to attend Hogwarts, even though the war ended shortly after the start of what should have been her first year. Maybe she's bitter. I don't know. We've never been close. She was barely walking when I left for school. We didn't grow up together, like you and your sisters."

"Those girls of hers didn't say a word during dinner. They reminded me of myself and Cissy at those ages. Silent observers. Scared to make a wrong move, desperately determined to be the ideal daughters. Not Bellatrix, though. Daddy usually didn't mind Bellatrix speaking out of turn. Mother did, but she'd never say so in front of Daddy."

"Andromeda…"

"My poor, sweet Teddy! He wanted to talk to Philip, to play with him, but the way she silenced him! Practically scolded him! I won't allow that tomorrow, Kingsley. Not in my own bloody home. The children will be eating in the sitting room – save for the fifteen-year-old, unless she wants to – and they can talk all they want to. Or they can sit there silently while Teddy and Hope talk. Maybe I'll ask Dorcas to sit with them, Dorcas and the fifteen-year-old."

"Pearl."

"Pearl. Dorcas can tell her about her studies and encourage the girl to be a bloody Healer if that's what she wants to be!"

"I could ask her to leave. My sister. I could tell her she's disinvited. I only invited her in the first place because my mother insisted."

"No. We won't be petty. She values decorum and etiquette and tradition? I can oblige. I was bloody _raised_ on that nonsense. I wasn't always an addict, blowing blokes for sickles in an alley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, two large homes in which to live, and a long list of arbitrary rules to follow that were predominately based on protecting the purity of my blood and maintaining my virginity. I can manage decorum and etiquette. I know all about old money patriarchal Pureblood traditions. But I'll not let her upset my Teddy again."

"Is it wrong that seeing you angry like this turns me on?" He slipped his hand over her bra-clad breast and moved to kiss the side of her neck. "Tell me more about decorum and etiquette."

"Kingsley!" She swatted at him, unable to keep from chuckling despite her anger and indignation.

"Which fork do I use first? I don't want to embarrass myself tomorrow, so tell me. But don't tell me nicely. Lecture me about it. Angrily."

He flicked his tongue against the soft skin spilling over the top of her bra. She giggled.

"Stop it!"

"On which side of the plate do I place my napkin when I'm finished?" He buried his face between her breasts.

"You are the worst man I've ever been to bed with."

"I am the best. And you ended that sentence on a preposition. Where's your sense of English language decorum?"

"Fuck off."

He laughed. "I'd love to, but I need your assistance."

He got to work removing her bra.

"I will give credit where it's due, Kingsley. You _do_ know how to make me laugh."

"Not what I like to hear when I'm getting naked." He shimmied out of his pajama bottoms.

She laughed harder.

"I'll make it worth your while, woman." He kissed her neck.

"Fine. Fine!" She reached into her bedside table for the flavored lube and gestured south. "But take your time down there first."

He grinned, pressed his lips to her inner thigh, and replied, "I'd love to."

 **PRESENT**

 **MOMENTS BEFORE THE WEDDING**

"She's here!" Hermione whispered, as Narcissa sent the signal from the back of the room. "Are we ready?"

"I am," answered Kingsley. He took a deep breath. He was more than ready, wearing an ornate patterned purple, gold, and green wizard's robe with matching cap and one small hoop earring. Beside him stood his Best Man and new best friend, Tom. Narcissa would be standing up with Andromeda.

Already seated and waiting for the ceremony to begin were Tom's wife and daughter, Kingsley's mother, sister, brother-in-law, and their children, Severus, Draco, Neville, Jean, her twins, the Mahmouds from the Ministry, and Healer Smelthwick.

Narcissa re-entered the small waiting room where Andromeda milled about anxiously with Hope and Teddy nearby. The children would enter first. Currently, Dorcas was coaching them on what to do.

Teddy couldn't wait. He was smartly dressed in the traditional purple, green and gold ceremonial robes of a Nigerian wizard, a miniature Kingsley in attire (though not in appearance). His hair was down in bright pink loose curls that fell to his shoulders, and his excitement could be felt throughout the small room. He hopped from one foot to the other, listening to Dorcas explain again what the children would be doing, and only half-listening.

"Understand, Teddy?" asked Dorcas.

He nodded. "I understand."

"What did I say?" she prompted.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Dorcas? When Kingsley and Nana are married, what shall I call him? Granddad? Papa? My friend Hermes from Quidditch calls his grandfather Papou." Teddy twirled one of his curls around his finger. "I wanted Dad but Hermione said no, that wouldn't make sense, and besides, I have a dad." He shrugged.

"I think you should ask Kingsley that," said Dorcas.

"Now?" Teddy started to make way for the door, but she scooped him up and set him back down.

"Not now! Later. After the party."

"Alright," said Teddy, sighing.

"Dorcas?" asked Narcissa. "The children know what they're supposed to do?"

"Yes," she said. Under her breath, glancing at Teddy, she added, "I hope so."

He grinned.

Andromeda initially hadn't wanted to do any sort of walk down an aisle, as she had no one to give her away (and felt that was an archaic custom anyway), but when Kingsley's father offered on Thursday (after a pleasant dinner Katherine and company did _not_ attend), she decided to take him up on it, crazy as it might seem.

"You look lovely," said Mr. Shacklebolt quietly.

"Thank you," said Andromeda. "And thank you for… this. I didn't get to do this the first time."

"Kingsley told me you eloped on your seventeenth birthday, still wearing your school uniform, no family present."

"Or friends. I didn't have any." She smiled shakily. "I can't believe he's marrying me."

"Why not? From what he's said, he's the fortunate one. Not many women would want to put up with him. He can be ornery. Has trouble showing emotions – that's the fault of his mother and me, I think – and he's always whining about those tension headaches, has since he was a child. His favorite things to do are Quidditch and reading. He was never one for the gentleman's club scene. Didn't enjoy duck hunting, didn't play gobstones, didn't show much interest in chess. We had nothing in common when he was younger." Mr. Shacklebolt shrugged. "Still don't, but I suppose it matters less now."

"You're not disappointed because he's marrying me?"

"I'll admit, the wife and I've always wanted him to have a Pureblood son, to carry on the Shacklebolt name. We're members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you know, as your parents were. We didn't want that to die out thanks to the generation we created. But that's not the life he's chosen."

"He had a son."

"With a Muggleborn mother."

"I thought she was mixed."

"Mixed, Muggleborn… the boy wasn't going to fulfil the requirements to be part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and he wasn't given Kingsley's name. There have been Kingsley Shacklebolts in the UK for centuries. No more."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If his mother and I had valued the right things, we'd have celebrated our grandson for the little person he was, and could have grown to be. That's why, when Kingsley wrote me asking for his grandmother's ring, and detailing all the reasons he intended to marry you, I told Mercy, 'We can't make the same mistake twice. If we don't support him this time, we'll lose him.'"

"He said you agreed to give me a chance."

"You make him happy. We can all see it, even Katherine. His eyes light up when he talks about you. He's jovial with you, teasing, good-humored. That's not his usual way, not that we've seen. Not since he was a small child. And the way he is with your grandson. I knew from his letters that he loved the boy, even though he didn't say it, but seeing them at Quidditch last weekend and yesterday?"

"He loves my Teddy?" she asked, even though she knew.

"Yes. Because he loves you." Mr. Shacklebolt nodded. "And he'll be forty-four in July. It's about time he settle down, even if he's not going to follow that with children."

"He has a daughter, don't forget."

"I know. We hope to meet her someday."

Andromeda half-smiled. "Yes. So do I."

"Meda?" asked Narcissa. "Are you ready?"

"More than."

"Alright. Dorcas, position the children."

Mr. Shacklebolt offered his arm to Andromeda.

"Welcome to the family."

 **FEBRUARY 2001**

 **THREE YEARS AGO**

"…the next thing I knew, we were doing it against the wall in a storeroom! I wouldn't have, probably, but he's a _powerful_ man!"

Narcissa stared discerningly – and judgmentally – at her sister.

"You call him powerful one more time and I'm going to assume you either fucked the Minister for Magic or the Dark Lord reincarnated."

"Well…" Andromeda had the decency to look ashamed. "It wasn't the Dark Lord."

A few days later, Andromeda Tonks and the Minister for Magic went out for a very expensive dinner.

It was… uncomfortable

They left, went to his home, had ice cream instead, and talked.

"Men tell me I look like my sister, Bellatrix," she'd said.

"Do they?" he'd asked, studying her. "I don't see the resemblance."

He'd kissed her.

They'd ended up in bed.

It wasn't until she'd broken things off with Barnaby that they became a 'real' couple, but they didn't exactly ease into it, either.

On their fourth date, they were again in bed at his home, sated and falling asleep even though she couldn't stay all night, when he slipped his arm around her from behind, kissed her shoulder, and said, "You'll be my girlfriend?"

"Aren't we too old for titles like 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'?"

He kissed her shoulder again. "My lover, then."

"I was your lover when I was someone else's girlfriend."

He kissed her shoulder a third time. "I just want to know you're mine. And vice-versa."

"Oh." She shifted onto her back. "You should have said so, then."

He propped himself up, smiling down at her. "I'm saying so now."

"I'll be yours." She drew him down into a tender kiss. "I feel safe when I'm with you."

"Stay the night."

"I have to be home by midnight. Harry is sitting for Teddy. He doesn't want to spend the night on my couch."

"I don't want to say goodbye."

"Come for dinner tomorrow." She pulled him down to lie flush against her, with her legs bent up on either side of his hips. "I'll cook for you."

"Are you a good cook?"

"I'm not bad."

"What will you make?"

"What would you like?"

He thought a moment. "Shepherd's pie."

"I'll make shepherd's pie." She raked her short nails lightly up and down his back. "Do you think you can go once more? Before I have to leave?"

He shifted on top of her and moved his hand between them to fondle her breast. "I believe I can manage that."

"Next time, I'll see if I can get someone to keep Teddy overnight."

"Good." Kingsley sucked at the spot where her neck met her shoulder, though he didn't leave a mark. When he pulled back, he said, "Next time, I want to wake up with you."

 **PRESENT**

 **THE WEDDING**

The children held hands and made their way down the aisle as directed, Dorcas took her seat beside Neville, Narcissa stood in her spot across from the Best Man, and then it was Andromeda's turn to enter.

She was more glad than she'd realized she would be to be on the arm of Kingsley's father; it meant she didn't have to walk it alone.

Kingsley's jaw dropped a bit when he saw her, and there was a little gasp, and when their eyes met she knew what he was thinking.

"Perfection."

She looked absolutely beautiful in her gown, designed by up-and-comer Padma Patil and sewn by Madam Malkin. It was a deep, shimmery cerulean blue, floor-length and fitted, held up by thin straps, with a low back, and laced like a corset in the front. She was showing off just enough chest and sporting a magnificent diamond and sapphire necklace borrowed from her sister. It was an heirloom handed down from their maternal great-grandmother.

"I don't want to wear anything that reminds me of our family," Andromeda had said when Cissy first offered.

"You're right, it was silly for me to offer," said Narcissa. "Poor dear Mummy would be rolling over in her grave if you were to wear–"

"I'll take it," said Andromeda.

The dress flowed as she took delicate steps toward Kingsley. She felt butterflies in her stomach, but not the anxious, terrified sort she'd experienced during her first wedding. These were butterflies of excitement. After spending such a long time convincing herself that she couldn't marry him, she was beyond thrilled to finally be telling herself, yes, she could.

She would.

She deserved him and he deserved her and together they would be happy. They would see each other through the difficult times, and let their foundation be built on mutual respect, an unexplainable connection, and love.

The ceremony passed in a blur. Suddenly, his forefinger and thumb were finding her chin, and tilting her face up, and then he was kissing her, gently. Perfectly.

And they were married.

* * *

 **A/N:**

It brought me much joy to finally marry them off! I hope you liked it, too. Next they're on their honeymoon, and we also see flashbacks to the wedding night and reception. Thank you for your patience, for reading the last chapter, and for your wonderful reviews! Thanks especially to **SmartKoala, hule, ahorizonforthenewbirds, Alice Helena, albe-chan, Banglabou, lilikaco, sassanech, NazChick,** and **FrancineHibiscus**. I appreciated all of your responses more than I can say!

 **-AL**


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